Alexandra Potter
by Taure
Summary: Harry Potter never existed. In his place, Alexandra Alice Potter was born. Their lives are similar, yet different. Female Harry AU, starting from the beginning of PS. Rating for safety. Explores magical society in more detail than canon.
1. Never Hit Girls

Author's Note: This fic is a catharsis fic. By that I mean that it is written purely for myself. It may, at times, ignore what is traditionally good writing on a number of areas, such as pacing, plot, exposition, and so on. Do not expect an action-packed plot like In Essence Divided. This fic is mainly written to explore the idea of _normal life_ in the magical world. Using a female Harry Potter helps keeps it fresh - plus I've always wanted to write a fem!Harry, and honestly, I feel like there aren't many good fem!Harry's out there, so it's a genre that needs expanding.

Legal disclaimer for the entire story: Harry Potter doesn't belong to me, and I don't write this for profit.

Another disclaimer: Some credit should be given to Inverarity's protagonist Alexandra Quick. While I didn't seek to steal the name of his protagonist, it's entirely possible that his excellent stories influenced my decision.

_**Alexandra Potter: The Girl Who Lived**_

_By Taure_

_Chapter One: Never Hit Girls_

Not much had changed in the 10 years since Alexandra had been left on the Dursleys' doorstep. Number Four, Privet Drive was the same as ever - more or less. The pictures had changed: where once they depicted the chubby baby face of Dudley Dursley, a rather spherical ten-year-old now stood, often between two proud parents. Vernon and Petunia had aged too: Vernon had grown larger still, and his moustache was much thicker, while Petunia now dyed her hair to hide the faint beginnings of grey.

There was very little sign that Alexandra lived there at all. But if you looked carefully, you might have been able to tell. If you were to open the door to the cupboard under the stairs, you would find a picture hanging there, on display for the hoover and mop. Like the others, this family photo showed the three Dursleys, dressed to the nines. But unlike the others, it also showed a young girl, maybe eight or nine years old. A pretty girl, she had long black hair, naturally wavy, and bright green eyes, and a faint scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on her forehead. She was standing to one side of the photo, as if neither she nor the Dursleys wanted evidence that they were related, and Dudley was glaring at her rather than smiling for the camera.

Aside from the secret photograph, you would have to go to Alexandra's bedroom to know she lived at Number Four. It was the smallest bedroom, of course, and sparsely furnished. There was no carpet covering the worn wooden floor, nor pictures on the pink walls. The creaky bed was small, the wardrobe second-hand, and one leg of the desk was shorter than the others. The sole decoration was a long mirror hanging on the back of the door.

Alex looked around her domain in satisfaction. It might have confused others, to see a young girl so happy with so little, but Alex had learned to value all that she had. And with so few possessions it was easy to keep her room tidy - unlike Dudley's eternal mess. _Tidy room, tidy mind_, that's what her teachers said. Whenever she passed Dudley's door she saw the truth of it.

"Girl, we're leaving in ten minutes!" Vernon shouted up the stairs. "You better be ready!"

Alex jumped in surprise. She hadn't realised it was so late. It was summer, and though it was close to six o'clock it was still light outside. She quickly opened her wardrobe and pulled out her best dress. It was green, to match her eyes. Like all her clothes, it was from second-hand shops. That wasn't to say the Dursleys were poor - a new shiny car in the driveway was testament to that - but they had always made it clear to Alex that she was not really part of their family. They were her guardians, not her parents.

Alex didn't mind much. You could find some pretty good clothes in charity shops if you looked hard enough. She whipped off her top and shorts and took a moment to look at herself in the mirror. She'd recently started wearing a bra - not a real bra like older girls wore, but still enough to make her feel more grown-up. And she _was_ better developed there than the other girls in her year - thanks to a little use of her talent.

Satisfied with her appearance, she dropped the dress over her head and did the zip up.

"FIVE MINUTES!" shouted Vernon.

Any other girl would have a mother to help with their hair. Alex was used to doing it on her own. She scrunched up her nose and _pushed_, and suddenly her hair was alive: it straightened with a wiggle, and then began to braid itself into two fine Dutch braids, which then tied around the back of her head like a circlet. It would have taken anyone else at least quarter of an hour and a lot of practice to put their hair into such a complicated style. Alex did it in 15 seconds.

It was her secret. Her talent. She'd first discovered it when she was seven: she'd returned from the hairdressers and absolutely hated her haircut, and in a moment of extreme regret her hair had restored itself. She was stunned; the Dursleys tried to pretend it never happened. But Alex didn't forget. She knew what she had seen. By seven years old, most children have stopped believing in magic, but since that day Alex had been convinced of its existence. She knew it because she could use it.

Changing her appearance was easiest, requiring barely any effort at all. At first she'd been limited to her hair, but her abilities seemed to grow with her age. By the time she was nine, she could change almost anything about herself - on the surface. The hair, eyes, skin - it was all easy. Much more difficult were deeper changes. She still couldn't make any structural changes, like the shape of her nose, or her height. Giving herself size A boobs was the height of her accomplishments.

She could do other things as well, though they were much harder. If she focused hard, or if she was upset, she could make things happen. She could make objects float, tell animals what to do, or make flowers bloom. One time, when she'd been having a staring match with Dudley, she'd actually got some idea of what he was thinking.

Alex shuddered at the memory. Dudley's mind was not somewhere she wanted to be.

"ONE MINUTE!"

Alex slipped her pumps on and hurried downstairs. The Dursleys were all waiting by the door. Petunia gave her a look over - her eyes lingering on Alex's hair - and sniffed. Alex rolled her eyes: that was about as close to approval she ever got.

"Took your time, didn't you?" said Vernon, but he wasn't showing any signs of exploding. This was just his normal level of grumbling.

They took the new car to the concert, which was being held in a local church. None of them actually enjoyed classical music, of course. Vernon thought it was "uppity nonsense" and Petunia wouldn't know culture if it was sunbathing nude in next door's garden. As for Dudley, he spent most of the car ride talking about the television he was missing.

But being "upstanding members of the local community" meant attending Stonewall's junior concert. Alex was indifferent about the whole affair. She didn't particularly enjoy classical music - preferring the music in the charts - but it wasn't as if there'd be much to do at home. She'd already finished what little homework she had, Dudley always had control of the TV, and the Dursleys strictly controlled what books she was allowed to read - they didn't want her getting any "dangerous ideas". The concert, therefore, was a welcome break from boredom.

"Vernon, Petunia, it's so good to see you!" said Mrs. Williams, the woman who had invited them to the concert. Her 11-year-old son was in the choir, and she had a tendency to gush about it.

"Oh Carol, of course we wouldn't miss it," replied Petunia, greeting her by kissing the air next to her cheek.

"And this must be Dudley," Mrs. Williams continued, taking in Alex's cousin. She seemed to be struggling to find something positive to say, but eventually settled on a complete lie. "You'll be a lady killer in a few years, I bet."

Alex struggled to contain a laugh while her aunt and uncle puffed up in pride.

"And who's this?"

It was now Alex's turn to be examined.

"Alex, ma'am," she said - unlike Dudley, Alex had always been punished unless she was excessively polite. By now it was second nature.

"Alex_andra_," Petunia corrected. She never liked it when Alex shortened her name. She said 'Alex' was a boy's name.

"You _are_ a pretty one, aren't you?" said Mrs. Williams. Alex couldn't help but grin - such praise was rare, and the scowl on Vernon's face took the cake. Mrs. Williams might be a bit fuddy duddy, but she was alright, Alex decided. "I never knew you had a daughter, Petunia! Where _have _you been hiding her?"

"Oh, she's not our daughter!" Petunia said, extremely quickly. Alex's smile died.

"Petunia's sister's daughter, you know, " said Vernon, trying to pass it off casually.

"Oh, I see! Visiting your Aunt and Uncle? I'm not sure if Whinging has much to offer a girl your age, but it's always good to see family..."

Alex swallowed. She'd never found a good way to explain that she was an orphan. The Dursleys had no such problems.

"Her parents are dead," said Dudley, managing to showcase both his tact and wit. Alex scowled at him; Mrs. Williams looked mortified.

"Why, young man, that was not a kind thing to say! You should apologise to your cousin."

The Dursleys looked like they were sucking lemons, forced to watch as their perfect child was told off.

"Sorry," mumbled Dudley. It was music to Alex's ears - undoubtedly finer than anything Mrs. Williams' son was about to produce. _I should come to more of these things_, Alex thought. When they were in public, the Dursleys had to behave.

"Oh, look, dear Mrs. Figg's arrived - lovely to see you, Vernon, Petunia." They exchanged more air kisses, and Mrs. Williams left.

"Well I never!" said Petunia, once she was out of earshot. "Telling Dudley off like that! The nerve of some people... we don't tell her how to raise _her_ son, do we?"

"What do I always say, Pet? The country's -"

"- going to the dogs," completed Alex in a bored tone of voice. Her uncle said it several times a week.

Vernon turned a beady eye on her.

"That's enough out of you for one night, I think," he said. "You've done enough damage already."

Alex was fuming as they took their seats. _She_ had done enough damage? She'd done nothing! It wasn't her fault that Dudley was rude, and it certainly wasn't her fault that her parents were dead. But that had never mattered to the Dursleys.

The music was predictably bad, the seats uncomfortable, and the church was far too hot. Alex desperately needed a drink of water. To make everything worse, Dudley spent most of the concert kicking Alex whenever he thought no adults were looking. Alex was certain her shins would be black and blue the next day.

"Stop it!" she whispered urgently after a particularly hard kick.

"Shhh!" said Petunia, giving Alex a sharp look. Dudley smirked at her.

The intermission was a welcome relief. After gulping down three glasses of orange juice, Alex excused herself to go to toilet, hoping to escape all the grown-up "small talk" as they downed as much free wine as they could in the short break. Dudley was waiting for her when she was finished.

"I'm gonna get you," he said. "Tomorrow at school."

Alex clenched her fists. Every so often Dudley would "get her", and it was never pleasant. Sometimes he'd stick her head through the gap in the barbed wire fence and hold her there. Another favourite was to spill milk on her at break. He'd never been caught in the act by a teacher, and Alex wasn't about to tell on him. She was no tell-tale.

"Oh yeah?" she said, bolder than she felt. "Well, maybe I'll get you. You're so fat, it can't be hard."

"I'm not fat!" he said - too loudly. Some people turned to look at him and he scowled. Alex stuck her tongue out at him.

"You think you're so clever, Potter. You're always such a teacher's pet. But I know your secret. I'm gonna tell everyone."

Alex's heart plummeted. He was going to ruin her life.

"If you do, I'll tell everyone you're gay," she said. She had to beat him at his own game.

"You wouldn't!" said Dudley. He looked truly afraid. Mutually assured destruction.

"Oh, Dudley, I always knew there was a reason you always hang around with Piers. Do you play with your - your _willies _together?"

_Smack!_

Alex gasped, stunned, and brought a hand up to her stinging face. She wasn't the only one - all the adults around them gasped too, and turned to stare.

"You... you _hit_ me," she said. Against her will, tears began to form in the corners of her eyes.

"Dudley Dursley!" a man said. He was tall, with black hair going silver. He did not look happy. Dudley gulped audibly. It was Mr. Stevens. Their headmaster. "What on earth do you think you're doing?"

"She-" Dudley began, but Mr. Stevens interrupted.

"I'm not interested," he said, "you _never_ hit girls, do you understand me? _Never_."

"Yes, sir," Dudley said to his shoes.

"Look at me," said Mr. Stevens. Alex inwardly cringed, almost feeling sorry for Dudley. Mr. Stevens' "look at me" was one of his most powerful weapons. Dudley looked up, his face completely red from his public humiliation. Everyone was watching, now.

"We will discuss this tomorrow morning, in my office," he said. "Vernon, Petunia, I would like you to come too."

They nodded in agreement, not willing to speak, apparently sufficiently embarrassed by what was happening.

They didn't stay for the second half of the concert. They left as inconspicuously as they could, and drove home in silence. It was not to last.

"You!" said Vernon, as they entered the kitchen, rounding on Alex. She froze in place. Surely they couldn't blame her this time? Not with such a public audience. "To your room, now! I don't know what you said, but you've embarrassed us tonight, in front of all our friends. There'll be no more concerts."

Hardly daring to believe her luck, Alex hurried upstairs. No chores, and no mention of losing her pocket money.

"Not you," she heard as she walked up the stairs. _Was Dudley actually going to be told off?_ Alex hovered at the top of the stairs. She didn't want to miss this. It was hard to make out what was being said, until:

"It doesn't matter what she said!" Vernon bellowed. "You _never_ hit a girl. I thought we had raised you better than that!"

"But-"

"No buts! No television - for a week! And you have to be in bed by 8 o'clock, every day!"

"Dad!" Dudley said, completely shocked. Nothing like this had ever happened before.

"Maybe you'll remember this, next time you think to use your fists!"

Dudley came stamping out of the kitchen; Alex wasn't able to get up the stairs fast enough. Dudley saw her there, listening in, and he gave her a look of genuine hate.

They stared at each other for a moment. Then, unable to stop herself, Alex whispered down the stairs.

"Gaaaaaaay."

She ran to her room before she could see the result.


	2. A Little Bird Told Me

_**Alexandra Potter: The Girl Who Lived**_

_By Taure_

_Chapter Two: A Little Bird Told Me_

Dudley never did follow through on his threat, and Alex never told everyone Dudley was gay - not that she was ever really planning to. For Dudley's part, Alex supposed that he'd been sufficiently cowed by the long sequence of punishments he had received. No television for a week was just the start of it, it turned out.

The day after the concert all three Dursleys had spent a long time in Mr. Stevens' office. Dudley had been forced to apologise to her in front of the whole school and had to spend his breaks in the library for a week.

It took a few weeks for things to return to normal, and by then the end of term was approaching. Sports day had come and gone (Alex had managed to come second in the 800m), and the swimming gala was coming up. Alex was looking forward to it: she was a strong swimmer, and thought she might win a few races. With only a week to go, she was going to the pool after school almost every day.

"Do you think Henry fancies me?" asked Annabel as they changed into their swimsuits. She was Alex's best friend, a half-Swedish girl with stereotypical blonde hair and blue eyes. Alex tried not to peek - Anna was rather pretty, and it was only natural to want to look, wasn't it?

"I know so," Alex replied, grabbing her towel, "Matthew told me this morning."

"'Cause he fancies you!" Anna said. They giggled together as they left the changing room. "Race you to the other side!"

By the time Alex returned home, her hair wet, it was getting dark. They'd swum for over an hour and she was starving.

"See you tomorrow!" she said to Anna as they parted ways - she lived just two streets down.

"Bye!"

The Dursleys were all in the sitting room, watching the television. It almost looked like they were hypnotised, the way they all sat there in silence, staring at a screen. None of them greeted Alex as she walked past the door - she wasn't sure if they even noticed she was there. A plate of food waited for her on the kitchen table - the Dursleys had already eaten. She put the slice of pie into the new microwave and watched hungrily through the window as it rotated.

_Hoot hoot!_

Alex jumped in surprise, snapping out of her stupor. She turned towards the sound, and jumped again when she saw the source.

There was an owl outside the window, perched on the window sill.

_Weird_. Alex had never seen a real owl before. They were extremely rare, and for one to actually come down and stand outside the window was odd. She was about to call for the Dursleys when she saw that it had a message attached to its leg.

Wondering if she was going insane, Alex opened the window carefully, rather wary of the owl's sharp-looking beak. The owl hooted again, and stuck out its leg. Her hands shaking slightly, Alex untied the string. The moment she had the (rather large) letter in hand, the owl spread its wings and flew away, quickly disappearing into the dark sky.

Shrugging, Alex sat down at the kitchen table, examining the letter. It was thick and pleasantly heavy, made of the kind of high quality paper you'd get in an art shop. There was an actual genuine wax seal on the back, with a coat of arms. And the front was handwritten in cursive script, in green ink. It was addressed to her.

_Miss. Alexandra Alice Potter_

_Number Four, Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey_

_No post code_, she thought. _But then, I suppose owls don't use them._ She giggled to herself at the ridiculousness of it all. It was kinda awesome though: she wondered who had gone to all this trouble.

She opened the letter and pulled out the several sheets from inside - that explained the thickness, then. Alex's eyes widened as she took in the front page.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: The Right Honourable_ _ALBUS P.W.B. DUMBLEDORE PC_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, Int. Confed. Wizds.)_

_Dear Miss. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been shortlisted for a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A representative from the school will visit your home on June 30th to evaluate your suitability for Hogwarts. Should you fail to gain entry, your file shall be forwarded to the Ministry of Magic for appropriate placement._

_An equipment list accompanies this letter. To avoid disappointment, please refrain from purchasing these goods until your place is confirmed._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Her first instinct was disbelief. Her second, quickly arriving on the heels of the first, was _this explains a lot_. She was right: it was magic, what she could do, and there were other people like her out there. And she could go to a school to learn more! She wondered if her parents had been magical too - it would certainly explain the Dursleys' fear to allow her near anything too fantastical.

Not that it was a sure thing, of course. Alex glanced back at the letter worriedly. _Should you fail to gain entry_... that meant there was some sort of test. Presumably, it would be a magic test, not maths and English and so on. Would she be able to pass? She could do some magic, sure, but not much, and it was really hard. Would it be enough?

There was so much world changing information in just that one paragraph. The Ministry of Magic: that meant that there was some kind of magical government, and it sounded like it was a part of the normal one. Like the Ministry of Defence - the Ministry of Magic. Alex giggled again, imagining a witch in Number 10 Downing Street. And Merlin was real, and had some kind of Order. Was that like an award, like knighthood? Or a group of people? Alex had no idea, but she knew she wanted to find out.

Having extracted everything she could from the first page, Alex turned to look at the equipment list.

_First Years will require:_

_One Wand, fitted._

_GIRLS_

_One (or more) plain black working robe (open style), prepared to receive a House Crest._

_Four (or more) girls' winter underrobes, black, with House trim._

_Four (or more) girls' summer underrobes, white, with House pattern._

_Plain black stockings (for winter)._

_One winter cloak, black, silver fastenings._

_One pair Dragon Hide (or similar) gloves._

_Black shoes, leather, with a heel of no more than one inch._

_Other clothing suitable for leisure time._

_Underwear: black, white, or other neutral colour. NO RED._

_All clothing should be clearly labelled with the student's name._

_Potions Equipment:_

_One cauldron, pewter, standard size 2._

_One Standard Hogwarts Ingredients Kit, First Year, available at Slug and Jiggers._

_One set of knives, to include 1 Large Steel Knife, 1 Small Steel Knife, 1 Small Silver Knife._

_One set of scales, brass._

_One telescope._

_Set of stirrers._

_One set glass phials._

_Books:_

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade I, by Miranda Goshawk._

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, by Emeric Switch._

_Magical Draughts and Potions, by Arsenius Jigger._

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, by Quentin Trimble._

_A Greenthumb's Guide, by Selena Greengrass._

_Introduction to Natural Philosophy, by Adalbert Waffling._

_Latin, Grade I, by Samantha Smith_

_A History of Magic, by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Students may bring other books. However, parents are reminded that Hogwarts' Library is extensive._

_Students are permitted an owl OR cat OR toad. Should any other pets be brought, they shall be handed over to the Gamekeeper._

Alexandra's amazement grew as she read down the list. She had no idea where you'd buy any of it - except maybe brass scales - but she couldn't wait to read the books. She'd read The Hobbit last year - hidden from the Dursleys, of course - and loved it. But here was a _real_ magical world, and she would get to know everything about it.

She turned back to the first page and re-read the letter. It said someone would be coming on June 30th... but that was tomorrow! She had so little time to prepare!

Alex had never been burdened with false modesty: she knew she was pretty smart. She was the only one in their class to get a level 6 on the maths SAT, which most students didn't achieve until they were 14. She was no stranger to tests. But this magic test completely scared her: she had no idea what would be on it, or how much she would have to do to pass. And the stakes were high. She _had_ to get into Hogwarts.

Completely forgetting to tell the Dursleys about her letter, and leaving her pie in the microwave, she ran up to her room. The rest of the night was spent reading and re-reading the letter, practicing her magic in between. She started sitting in front of her mirror, changing her shape. It was by far the easiest part of magic: it took only a moment of really wanting it, and her hair rippled between black to red to purple to green to black again. Her eyes were a bit harder, but not by much. It didn't even hurt anymore. Squinting her eyes, she shifted them to blue, to brown, and then to red.

For some reason, she shuddered. There was something extremely unsettling about red eyes. She quickly returned her eyes to their vivid green. After her eyes, she moved onto more advanced changes. She extended her fingernails, changed the colour of her skin, and, wanting to see how far she could push herself, tried to lengthen her fingers. A series of quite unsettling cracking sounds followed as her bones rearranged themselves. It wasn't quite painful, but the sensation of parts of herself moving underneath her skin was rather strange.

Alex stared at her left hand and wiggled her fingers. She'd never done anything involving her bones before. They still seemed to work okay, but the hand looked unnatural - almost skeletal. With a wiggle of her fingers they returned to their previous length - or at least, what Alex hoped was their previous length. She was never quite sure. She knew that she had no idea what size her boobs were supposed to be by now. Her "true" form wasn't hidden underneath her changes - any change she made was permanent. She had to rely on memory, intuition and how things felt to reverse a change.

After exhausting physical changes, Alex decided to work on her more difficult magic.

It was more unreliable, her other magic. She often wondered why, but hadn't been able to think of any particular reason. Maybe different people found different parts of magic easier than others. Maybe it was the same for everyone. It was one of those questions she would have to ask Minerva McGonagall.

Whatever the cause, causing her other magic to respond through pure will, like her physical changes, was extremely difficult. Sometimes she had to be really upset - or really happy - for it to happen. Sometimes she had to focus for ten minutes before something happened. An exception seemed to be her "mind reading" - though it wasn't quite as easy as that - which just required the kind of deep eye contact that was rare. It was easy to do, but she had to feel like she was falling down through the other person's pupils before she could start getting flashes of images and sounds.

Faced with this difficulty, Alex had started to develop a few tricks to help things along a bit. If getting things to happen through will alone was hard, then why not use tools to help?

As quietly as she could - it was now past midnight - Alex tip toed out of her room and down the stairs to the seldom-used dining room. Alex only had a few memories of her grandparents - Aunt Petunia's parents, that was - who died when she was very young. The sturdy wooden furniture in the dining room was theirs, and somewhat at odds with Number Four's otherwise modern decor. In the dining room, Vernon kept a locked wooden desk, in which sat all of his important documents, and cash.

He thought it was secure. He was wrong.

The dining room windows were also locked, but the Dursleys kept the key right next to them. After all, they were locked to keep burglars out, not in. The window key wasn't the key for the desk, of course. But it was close enough to make the magic work. Alex picked up the key and walked over to the desk. She crouched in front of the locked drawer, and lined up the key, so that it was just outside the lock, as if she was about to insert it. But instead of inserting it, she turned the key in mid air, slowly, very deliberately. She felt a phantom resistance and turned harder.

The lock clicked open.

Grinning, Alex opened the drawer and leafed through the contents. _Bills, bills, bills...aha!_ Vernon was a rather paranoid man, so he kept an unusually large amount of cash in the house. Alex couldn't be bothered to count it, but there was at least three hundred pounds there. She liberated a twenty, rolled it up, and tucked it into the elastic waistband of her pyjamas. All those magic books looked expensive, after all.

Satisfied, she returned the drawer to how she had found it - she'd been careful to note how everything had looked, before she moved things - and locked it again using her magic key.

She tiptoed back upstairs, skipping the creaky stairs, and sat on her bed. The late hour was beginning to catch up on her. Normal children would have been put to bed by their parents long ago, but the Dursleys had never tucked Alex in. So long as she was in her room, they didn't care if she was asleep or not.

Yawning, Alex turned on her bedside lamp, before switching off the main light. She got her letter out, slipped into bed, and began to read it once more.

She was asleep before she reached the end.


	3. Minerva McGonagall

_**Alexandra Potter: The Girl Who Lived**_

_By Taure_

_Chapter Three: Minerva McGonagall_

"ALEXANDRA!"

Alex jerked awake at the sound of her name. Uncle Vernon was shouting for her, and he didn't sound happy. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she sat up with a jolt when she remembered the events of the previous day.

Heavy footsteps made their way up the stairs and her door swung open.

"Downstairs," said Vernon, spit flying from his lips, "now."

Alex rolled out of bed, saying nothing. Was the Hogwarts' representative already here? A great first impression that would be. Would she be the first person ever to be assessed for Hogwarts in their pyjamas?

She followed Vernon downstairs and into the sitting room, where a witch was sitting in one of the armchairs. The woman was unmistakably magical - it was almost laughable, actually, how much like she looked like a storybook character. She was wearing rather sombre looking dark green robes (which were really very similar to a conservative dress), and a large pointy hat was on her lap. It was interesting though: something about the robes - the quality of their make, perhaps, or the fine minor details - gave them an air of authenticity that fancy dress lacked.

As Alex entered, the witch stood up.

"Alexandra Potter, I assume?" she said, her voice refined, yet possessing the hint of a Scottish accent.

Alex almost felt like she should curtsy. The woman was rather stern looking, yet as Alex saw her closer, she realised that the witch was not nearly so old as she had first thought. Alex would have guessed her to be around forty.

"Yes ma'am," she replied politely. "Are you from Hogwarts?"

Vernon's eyes bulged, and Petunia - hovering near the television nervously - squeaked.

"How in the blazes...?" Vernon began, before glancing at the woman.

"I received your letter just yesterday," added Alex, partly for her relatives benefit.

"Indeed," she said, sending a piercing look at Vernon. "My name is Minerva McGonagall - Professor McGonagall at Hogwarts, if you please. I am the Deputy Headmistress, and the Transfiguration Mistress."

Excitement bubbled deep in Alex's tummy.

"And what _is_ Transfiguration?" she asked. She'd seen the word on the booklist, and she supposed it had something to do with changing things, but what it was exactly was a mystery.

McGonagall offered her a brief but apparently genuine smile. "First things first, Miss. Potter. You must first officially accept your place at Hogwarts School. You _do_ wish to come to Hogwarts?"

"Of course!" said Alexandra, somewhat confused. "But... not that I'm complaining, or anything, but isn't there meant to be a test?"

"A test?" said McGonagall, frowning, before - "Ah, yes, I see. Your situation is somewhat unique, Miss. Potter, in that you are wizarding born, yet Muggle raised." Alex guessed that "Muggle" meant someone without magic. Someone like the Dursleys. "As such," McGonagall continued, "you will have received the letter sent to Muggleborns. But of course your name has been down for Hogwarts since the day you were born."

Alex was beginning to think that Professor McGonagall thought she knew more that she did.

"Of course?" she questioned. "My parents had magic too, then?"

For a moment, McGonagall looked gobsmacked, but she recovered quickly, turning to stare angrily at Vernon.

"Am I to assume you have told the girl nothing?" she said coldly, assessing the situation quickly.

"Well, not nothing - that is to say, of course, we haven't told her everything - such nonsense, stamp it out of her..."

"Enough," said McGonagall, interrupting Vernon's empty and aimless bluster. "I see now that we have much to discuss today, Miss Potter. We had best be starting immediately. Go and get dressed - quickly now - and we shall be on our way."

"Now see here!" Vernon said, apparently trying to regain control of the situation. He puffed himself up and stepped closer to McGonagall. The witch appeared to be entirely unthreatened. "I will _not_ be paying for the girl to go off and learn how to make teapots sing! She'll be going to the local comprehensive, and that's that!"

Alex's heart seemed to stop. Not even in her worst nightmare had she imagined that the Dursleys would actually be able to stop her from going to Hogwarts.

"Run along, Miss. Potter," McGonagall said, apparently unmoved by Vernon's refusal. "I will explain the situation to your uncle while you dress."

Alex ran upstairs and threw on a skirt and a t-shirt before fixing her hair into a pony tail. Not having any time for a shower, she quickly splashed some water on her face and gave her teeth a token brush before hurrying back downstairs. She found McGonagall waiting for her next to the door - apparently tired of the Dursleys' company.

"Ready?" McGonagall asked. Alex grinned, assuming Vernon had been bullied into allowing her to go to Hogwarts.

"Let's go," she replied, opening the door for the older woman.

They talked as they walked down Privet Drive, the pair of them enjoying the summer sun.

"Normally I would apparate to Diagon Alley, but since you will be unable to do so for many years, I think it best that I show you how to get there yourself," McGonagall explained.

"Okay," said Alex, not really sure what apparition was. Maybe it would tell her in her school books.

McGonagall pulled a long, thin piece of wood from her sleeve. It was clearly more than just a piece of wood: it had been crafted into a highly polished cylinder with a handle, and decorative vines were gently carved into its length.

"This is a wand," McGonagall said, allowing Alex to get a good look at it - but not hold it. "You may call the Knight Bus at any time like so." McGonagall held the wand out over the side of the road, and gave it an upwards flick.

_BANG!_

Alex jumped in shock as an giant, purple, double decker bus hurtled around the corner at a ridiculous speed. It tipped slightly as it turned, before screeching to a halt in front of them. Alex glanced around, looking for the inevitable faces looking out of windows that should follow such a loud noise on a Saturday morning. There were none.

The bus was an old fashioned one, like you saw in London, where you got on at the back and paid a conductor.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transportation for the stranded witch or wizard," the conductor said, greeting them as they stepped in. He was an old, hunched man with a gruff voice. "Hogwarts business, Professor?"

Apparently Professor McGonagall was reasonably well known.

"Indeed, Mr. Owen. Two tickets for Diagon Alley, please. On the Hogwarts account."

The old man turned to look at Alex then, peering at her, before his eyes widened comically.

"Galloping gargoyles!" he cried, pointing at her forehead, "it's -mmmph!"

McGonagall's wand had twitched and Mr. Owen's words were muffled as if he had a sock in his mouth.

"_Thank you_ for your discretion, Mr. Owen," she said tartly, before leading Alex to a pair of seats on the upper floor. The bus wasn't quite empty, but it wasn't nearly full either. With a lurch, the bus shot back into motion, the world blurring as they moved.

"What was that about?" Alex said once they were sitting. The man acted like he knew who she was. McGonagall sighed.

"Perhaps I should start at the beginning, as I would for all Muggleborns," she said. "As you have no doubt noticed, magic exists. Men and women who can learn its use are called wizards and witches, and we are sufficient in number to have developed our own society, completely separate from the non-magical - or Muggle - one. This society is kept a tightly guarded secret. Though there is some overlap, we have our own culture: music, literature, sports, businesses, schools, banks, currency, even our own branch of government. In addition to witches and wizards, there are also a number of other magical beings and creatures, such as goblins, centaurs, dragons, and unicorns."

Alex's eyes widened in surprise. Though of course she had known she had special abilities, she had never imagined _this_. A whole society! And dragons! Just how big _was_ this magical community?

"Do you have any questions at this stage?" McGonagall asked, allowing a moment for the information to sink in.

"Only a million," said Alex, unable to hold in a short laugh. She tended to do that when she was nervous or shocked. McGonagall offered her a warm smile.

"Just like your mother. She was bursting with questions too."

"You taught my mother?" Alex asked, surprised. The Dursleys never spoke of Lily and James Potter. She'd never even seen a picture of them.

"I've been teaching at Hogwarts for over forty years, Miss. Potter. I taught both your parents, and let me tell you, better students are few and far between. Their deaths were a terrible loss."

"Forty years?" said Alex, surprised. "But that would make you _at least_ sixty!"

McGonagall fixed Alex with a look that told her that it was just as rude to talk about a woman's age in the wizarding world as the Muggle. But, nevertheless, she answered the unspoken question.

"You will find that magical people live longer than Muggles, and - after reaching adulthood - age much slower. It is not unusual for a wizard to celebrate his 160th birthday."

Something occurred then to Alex.

"But surely I would..." Alex began, before deciding to rephrase her question. "Do I have any grandparents? Great grandparents?"

McGonagall took Alex's hand in her own and gave it a comforting squeeze. Alex swallowed.

"Institute of Oriental Sorcery!" called the conductor up the stairs. An pair of elderly witches made their way off the bus.

"That brings us to less pleasant conversation," said McGonagall as the bus jerked back into full speed. "And an explanation of Mr. Owen's behaviour."

Many times in her life Alex had dreamt of some forgotten relative coming to rescue her from the Dursleys. With the discovery of the magical world, Alex had thought that dream about to come true. But it seemed she was alone as ever.

Alex clenched her fists. She had survived for ten years on her own. She didn't need anyone.

"Understand, Alexandra, that magic is a potentially dangerous skill. In the hands of a man like Professor Dumbledore, it can be a powerful force for good. But not all men are so scrupulous."

She paused, and Alex thought she knew where this was going. Of course nowhere was perfect.

"In the 1960s, there was one such man. Of course, there have always been wizards and witches who would use their talents for less than honest purposes. Men and women who use unsavoury magic. But this man was different. He was no common dark wizard. His power, Miss. Potter, was frightening. It was beyond the ability of the Ministry to contain. Indeed, even now many are afraid to say his name, calling him You-Know-Who - something he encouraged by killing those known to use his name freely. For decades his influence grew within our society, and before long it was war."

McGonagall paused and closed her eyes. Clearly the memory was still painful.

"It was a close thing, Miss. Potter," she said. "Few truly know how close. The Ministry was about to fall. It was a matter of weeks before You-Know-Who could claim his victory. And then, on Halloween night, 1981, he went to kill the Potters."

Alex was completely still, listening to every word. So this man was the reason she had no parents. This man was the reason she had been denied her heritage for so many years. Still, she was confused.

"But how did Mr. Owen know me?" she asked.

"You-Know-Who, apparently unsatisfied with the deaths of your parents, decided to finish off the Potters for good. He turned his wand on you, Miss. Potter, and tried to kill you."

Without realising what she was doing, Alex reached for her scar, tracing it with her finger. She had never been able to remove it with her powers, no matter how much she tried.

"Yes, Miss. Potter. Miraculously, that scar is all that he could do to you. Somehow, you survived where hundreds others had died. And more than survived: something about you undid him that night. At the height of his power, so close to absolute victory, you destroyed him. For that, you are famous. The Girl Who Lived is known to every witch and wizard in the world."

Alex had often dreamt of being famous - what child hadn't? For many years, she had wanted nothing more than to leave the Dursleys behind when she was 18, to go and make a name for herself, and then, when the world knew her name, when crowds cheered her like the moviestars, she would return to the Dursleys and let them know of what they had missed by not loving her like a daughter.

But this wasn't quite what she had in mind. Famous because she had survived and her parents had died? What kind of fame was that? Not the kind you could be proud of. Not the kind you could gloat about. Alex didn't want to be reminded of that night every time someone met her and pointed at her scar.

"What was his name? You Know Who?" she asked, trying to process her new fame. It was weird. She had always imagined that she would feel different when she was famous. But she felt exactly the same as before. It was like when people asked you if you felt different on your birthday. The answer was always no - it felt exactly like the day before.

McGonagall looked around the bus, as if You-Know-Who would jump out from behind one of the chairs.

"Lord Voldemort," she said, quite clearly, but quietly, not wanting to be overheard.

"Voldemort," Alex repeated, a bit louder, as if daring the world to challenge her. Nothing happened. It was just a name.

_BANG!_

Alex jumped, her heart jumping to her throat, but it was just the bus. They had stopped on a narrow, cobbled street.

"Leaky Cauldron!" the conductor shouted, and quite a few people stood to get off.

"This is our stop," said McGonagall, and they stood in line to get off the bus, waiting patiently - or in Alex's case, impatiently - for the old people in front of them to get out of the way.

The Leaky Cauldron was a rustic pub. Its low timber ceilings were old, and though it was sunny outside, none of that light penetrated the grimy windows. Here and there a few patrons in dark cloaks were nursing flagons of unknown concoctions, but the place was mostly empty - until they arrived with half of the Knight bus, that was.

Upon seeing their entry, the bald, worn-looking barman stopped wiping a table and moved to the bar, where he began serving drinks.

"We may return for lunch later, but we have much to do first. Our first stop is the bank. This way."

Alex just had time to see a wizard appear in the pub's fireplace in a burst of green flame before McGonagall led her through a side door. Beyond was a narrow and dirty side alley. It was a dead end, with a smelly bin up against the wall.

McGonagall ignored their unpleasant surroundings and walked to the dead end. She removed her wand and tapped a brick in the middle of the wall.

Alex could only gape as the wall rearranged itself before her, forming into an archway, revealing an entrance to a crooked street full of robed wizards and witches. Old fashioned shops lined the sides, and a great white marble building loomed ahead, before a 'Y' in the road.

"Welcome," said McGonagall, "to Diagon Alley."


	4. Diagon Alley

**Alexandra Potter: The Girl Who Lived**

By Taure

_Chapter Four: Diagon Alley_

Diagon Alley was without a doubt the most amazing place Alex had ever seen. Neck injury became a real possibility as she whipped her head back and forth, trying to see everything at once. It felt almost like time travel: the street was cobbled and the shops all looked vaguely Victorian. None of the gloss and glamour of the modern Muggle world could be found: everything was small, personal, intimate.

All the shops had painted wooden signs announcing their names, and their wares spilled out onto the street with stands meant to tempt shoppers within. Alex could see, as they passed by, the proprietor of _Madison's _weighing sweets from glass jars; excited children clutching colourful paper bags waited in expectation. A group of older girls giggled together as they left _Twilfitt and Tatting's_ wearing an interesting mix of Muggle clothing and wizarding robes. And McGonagall had to practically drag Alex away from _Patil's Perfumery_, from which emanated the most extraordinarily powerful scents: for a moment, she felt like she was walking through a freshly mowed garden, before it was replaced by the distinctive smell of leather, like a pair of new shoes.

_Slug and Jiggers Apothecary_ was a familiar name: it looked almost like Madison's, but inside _these_ glass jars sat not sweet treats but the parts of animals and plants. A chalkboard outside the front door announced "_DEAL OF THE DAY: FROGSPAWN, 5 SCOOPS A SICKLE"._ Next to the apothecary was _Belle_, whose windows displayed glass bottles and jars containing concoctions of every possible colour. Before they hurried by, Alex was just able to glimpse one: a tiny thing, containing some kind of green liquid called _Blemish Blaster_. _NEW RECIPE - S3_ was plastered over the display, and a nervous looking teenage boy was hovering outside the window, pretending not to be interested.

Not everything was so unfamiliar, though. While it was advertising something called Diricawl meat, the butchers looked quite normal, as did the greengrocers - despite a certain predominance of pumpkin. Gringotts Bank, however, was quite different. It was a grand building, classical in style, and it had a certain solid look to it where the rest of Diagon Alley was rather crooked. Two creatures guarded the front entrance like statues, and they were unlike any Alex had seen before. They were short - about as high as Alex's shoulders - heavily armoured, and rather ugly, with long pointed ears, hooked noses, and greenish skin.

"What _are_ they?" Alex whispered to McGonagall as they walked up the steps.

"Goblins," she replied, barely sparing them a glance. "Vicious, treacherous creatures. I would avoid them whenever possible, if I were you."

Alex frowned. They'd learned all about slavery and racial discrimination in school. She was pretty sure you weren't supposed to talk about whole groups of people like that. Thoughts about racial equality were banished from her mind when she entered, though.

Gringotts was opulent well beyond the bounds of taste.

The entrance led directly to a long marble hall. A red carpet extended down the length of the room, with a row of pillars either side. Each column was sculpted with the shapes of animals and twisting vines, with gold and jewels everywhere. Snakes had rubies for eyes, birds golden beaks, and every leaf was inlaid with silver. It was a glittering, gleaming monstrosity. It was just _ugly_.

Beyond the columns, on both sides, were tall wooden counters behind which goblins sat, lines of witches and wizards queueing for attention. They joined the shortest, and Alex couldn't help but think that the tall counters were somewhat petty - obviously the goblins enjoyed the novelty of looking down on people.

"Next!" spat the goblin - it was their turn. Alex had to crane her neck to see the creature - the counter was taller than she was.

"Miss Potter needs to access her vault," McGonagall said, her tone abrupt but not overly rude.

Alex blinked. _What? She had money? Here? _She had been so overwhelmed by Diagon Alley that she had never questioned their trip to the bank. McGonagall had spoken to Vernon before they left - Alex thought he was paying for everything.

"Key?" said the goblin.

McGonagall pulled a tiny, fancy looking, key from her pocket and handed it over. The goblin stroked it for a second, before nodding.

"Very well. Griphook!"

Alex almost jumped at his sudden shout, which turned out to be for another goblin. Alex had trouble seeing the difference between the two - all goblins seemed to look the same.

"This way," said Griphook, turning to walk down the hall. He was surprisingly fast - Alex hurried to keep up. She decided to try being nice.

"Thank you, Griphook," she said as they walked. It was just polite.

Griphook stopped walking and stared at her. For a moment, Alex though he was going to say something, before he hacked up a load of goblin-phlegm and spat right at her feet. Alex froze in place, her face burning, as Griphook turned to continue. McGonagall's lips were quirking, as if she was trying to suppress amusement.

"You had noble intentions," she explained quietly as they moved on. "But goblins and wizards have hated each other for centuries. You're not going to overcome that with mere politeness."

"Well, maybe it would be a start," said Alex rather testily, her pride still stinging.

McGonagall laughed - a surprisingly deep sound. "The day I hear a goblin say 'please' will be the day I celebrate a Slytherin Quidditch victory."

Alex buried a sigh of frustration. It was like McGonagall was speaking a foreign language. Slytherin, Quidditch... these words meant nothing to her. But they _should have_. Her parents had been magical. Those words were her inheritance.

The goblin (Alex refused to think of him by name) led them through a large door to a dark tunnel. Train tracks led down into the darkness - the tunnel was lit only by the occasional torch. They got into the cart, which seemed to be built for two, given how cramped it was, and Griphook sent them hurtling down the tunnel without a word of warning.

_Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!_

A scream of mixed fear and delight escaped Alex's lips before she could help herself. Embarrassed, she clamped her hands over her mouth, her heart thudding in her chest as she ignored McGonagall's disapproving expression. Alex had never been on a rollercoaster before - the one time she had been to a theme park, it was her job to watch the bags - but she decided in that instant that she loved it. _Best. Bank. Ever._

The ride was surprisingly long, passing through endless tunnels and giant underground caverns, but eventually they arrived at their destination. They rolled to a surprisingly gentle stop next to an raised alcove. Torches lit when they approached, revealing a huge wooden door studded with iron.

The goblin already had Alex's key, but the door had no keyhole. Clambering out of the cart, Alex watched curiously as he turned the key in the air - it was very similar to her own breaking and entering. A loud _clank_ came from behind the door and it swung open.

Alex gasped. The vault beyond held two large piles of coins - one looked like gold, the other silver. She walked into the chamber and looked around. There was a wooden shelf on one of the walls holding several stacks of bronze coins.

"This... is all mine?" Alex said, somewhat dazed. She picked up one of the gold coins. It was very small, less than an inch across, and wafer thin. A goblin's face surrounded by a ring of numbers and runes was printed on one side, a ship on the other. "Is this actually _gold_?"

"Without any impurities," said McGonagall, who was standing just inside the door. The goblin remained on the platform. "The goblins have a secret method to make it durable, removing the need to mix it with silver." She turned to the goblin. "What is Miss Potter's balance?"

Griphook held her key up to a beady eye, examining it. "Two thousand, seven hundred and eighty Galleons; three thousand, two hundred and twenty two Sickles; and seventy six Knuts."

Alex felt slightly faint. "How much is that in pounds?" she asked.

"Do I look like an abacus?" the goblin replied with a sneer.

Alex rolled her eyes - it was just getting over the top, now - and turned to McGonagall for help.

"What is the current rate for galleons into pounds?" the older woman asked.

"A hundred and sixty two pounds to the Galleon," the goblin replied, and then added "now hurry up. This isn't a museum."

"How much do I need?" asked Alex, pulling out her purse.

"Your fees will be withdrawn directly, so you don't need to worry about that. Thirty Galleons - the gold ones - should cover everything nicely. Take some Sickles and Knuts too, for smaller purchases," said McGonagall.

Alex tipped out her Muggle money - not that she had much, anyway - and counted out thirty gold coins. Because they were so small, they fit into her purse easily. Then she added five silver Sickles and a handful of bronze Knuts.

"Okay, I'm ready," she said, and they returned to the cart. The goblin passed Alex her key without a word, and then they were off, hurtling back up towards the surface. As they travelled, Alex took a closer look at a Sickle.

"Why's there a goblin face on the coins?" asked Alex, having to speak loudly over the noise of the cart. "Why not a wizard?"

Griphook bared his teeth at her, but said nothing.

"Because all coinage is property of the Goblins," said McGonagall. "A treaty between the Ministry and Gringotts allows wizards to use it, moving it between various Gringotts' vaults to symbolise exchange. But really, it's still all the Goblins' - It's just moving from one room to another. For the Goblins, wizards don't own gold - we borrow it."

Alex didn't like the sound of that. It was stupid. She'd just learned she owned piles of gold - it didn't sit well to learn five minutes later that wasn't really hers. She felt cheated.

"So my money - it isn't really mine?" she asked as they reached ground level.

"Well, it might as well be," replied McGonagall. "Nothing short of another Goblin rebellion could change it."

Her explanation didn't fill Alex with confidence. From what little she had seen, the Goblins looked about ready to rebel.

They exited Gringotts into painfully bright sunshine. It had been dark in the bank, and it took a few moments for Alex's eyes to adjust. She was suddenly quite glad she chose to wear a skirt - it was looking to be a hot day.

"Where first?" Alex asked, grinning. She'd never been on a shopping spree before. She wanted to buy _everything_.

"Robes, I think," said McGonagall, and they turned left into Salisbury Street. _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_ was a large shop: from the front, it looked like three buildings had been combined to make the displays full of mannequins. It was spacious and cool inside, racks of clothes arranged into islands around the shop floor. They were greeted by a bored assistant as they entered.

"Good morning, welcome to Madam-"

She stopped when she saw Alex, her eyes widening. She was young, Alex noticed - probably still at school. "Alexandra Potter!" she squeaked, and heads turned throughout the store. Excited whispering filled the room; more than one customer was pointing at her. Alex suddenly felt rather self-conscious. _I should have changed my hair to cover my scar_, she thought. The girl seemed to recover, because she tried again.

"Welcome to Madam Malkin's!" she said somewhat more enthusiastically. "How can I help you today?"

"Miss Potter needs to be fitted for Hogwarts' robes. In private." McGonagall's voice could have frozen an ocean.

"Oh! Of course! This way, please!"

They were led through a side door to the fitting room. A boy was being fitted already, wearing a strange white robe that looked more like a bed sheet than anything else. A woman was hovering around him, sticking pins into various parts of the robe. Each time she added a pin the robe would shift and change, adjusting its shape to something more form-fitting.

"Here you go!" said the assistant, passing her a similar outfit. "Change into that and pop onto the block."

Alex looked around for some kind of changing room. There was none.

"_Here?_" she asked, somewhat incredulous.

"Is there a problem?" the assistant asked. Apparently she was completely unconcerned that there was a _boy_ in the room. Sure, boys and girls used to get changed in the same room at the swimming pool - when they were _eight_. She was eleven now. She couldn't get changed with a _boy_.

She looked to McGonagall for help, but she was watching the whole affair with something of a detached demeanor. Apparently this was normal for wizards. Alex steeled her nerves. If it was normal for wizards, then it would be normal for her too. She was a witch now, after all. And so, blushing furiously, and moving as quickly as she could, she whipped off her t-shirt and skirt and dropped the white sheet over her head.

For his part, the blond boy barely seemed to realise she was there. Alex didn't know if she should be relieved or insulted. Loads of the boys at school fancied her. Maybe wizards were different? Shrugging, Alex stepped onto the raised block and the assistant began adjusting the robe, which Alex guessed was like some kind of template. An uncomfortable silence filled the room, and Alex suddenly felt the need to fill it.

"You going to Hogwarts too?" she asked, out of the blue.

"Of course," he drawled. _Definitely _a posh kid. "The Malfoy family has attended since its founding, you know." He seemed rather proud of the fact. "How about yours?"

She looked to McGonagall, who was now watching her keenly. No, not her - the boy. Alex wondered what it meant.

"Oh, well, my parents went. I'm not really sure, beyond that."

The boy frowned.

"Why not?" Posh, but not too bright, it seemed.

"They're all dead," Alex replied bluntly - as the direct question deserved.

"Oh." The boy looked mildly guilty about bringing it up. "But at least they were _our _kind. What was your name again?"

They both knew she'd never been introduced. Alex decided to have fun with him.

"Alexandra," she said, withholding her surname - clearly that was what the boy was after. It was a mistake.

"I see," he said, somewhat stiffly, and then he said nothing more. Alex wondered, if he had been able to turn at look at her, if he would have recognised her like everyone else. As it was, he seemed to have decided she was not worth talking to. She tried to revive the conversation.

"So I expect you know lots of magic already, being a Malfoy," she said, trying to appeal to his apparent love of his family. He didn't take the bait.

"Of course," he said, and nothing more. _What a prick_.

"All done!" said the woman doing Malfoy's robes. Out of the corner of her eye, Alex could see him change the fitting robe for his regular clothes - unlike many of the young people she'd seen, he wore entirely wizarding wear.

"See ya!" Alex called as he left. He didn't even turn to say goodbye. "How rude!"

"You should've told him your name, Miss," said the assistant reproachfully. Alex didn't reply.

The fitting didn't take long after that. She changed back into her clothes and sat, waiting for her robes to be finished - she had to have them done then, because she didn't know if she'd be able to come back.

"Can I go look at the other robes?" she asked McGonagall.

"I don't see why not," she replied. "But I think a disguise is in order, to avoid unwanted attention."

McGonagall reached for her wand, but Alex was quicker. She shook her hair, turning it dark red and giving herself a fringe to cover her scar. Then, for good measure, she made her skin paler and added a load of freckles. McGonagall's mouth was open.

"Miss Potter! Why did you not tell me that you're a metamorphmagus?"

"A what?"

"Someone who can self-transfigure without wand or training. You're only the second I've ever met! I dare say teaching you transfiguration shall be a joy."

_Well, that explained a lot._ Changing her appearance was so easy because it wasn't the same as her other magic. She was a metamorphmagus.

"Well then, off you go," said McGonagall after inspecting the transfiguration. "Don't leave the shop now."

Alex returned to the shop floor, still thinking about metamorphmagery. McGonagall said it was rare. Did that mean she should keep it a secret? She was so used to keeping secrets that it was second nature by now. As she considered her options, she looked through the hangers, trying to decide if she liked robes or not.

There was surprising variety on offer. There were two kinds, it seemed: robes meant to be worn on their own - basically, dresses - and ones meant to be combined with other things. Of the second type, there were outer robes - essentially like fancy bathrobes, but made for everyday wear - and inner robes, which were like blouses that went down to mid-thigh, the buttons stopping at the waist. Looking around, Alex found some others that looked more like extra-long tops of less formal styles, and she picked out a few of these. They surely weren't supposed to wear uniform _all_ the time.

Watching the witches in the store, Alex thought she got the idea of how to wear them: you had the outer robe done up to the waist, and then open above it, allowing the under robe to show. But there were a lot of different types, of every material, cut and colour imaginable, from conservative to quite daring. Alex noticed several women were wearing just their underrobes - it was too hot for an outer robe, surely - either with stockings or bare legs. And most of the younger people seemed to mix and match with Muggle clothing - underrobes with jeans was quite popular.

She returned to the dresses, and added a couple of summery numbers to her purchases. She was about to look at the mens' robes - which looked quite different - when McGonagall found her.

"Your school robes are ready," she said, glancing at Alex's selections with what looked like approval. "We can get Madam Malkin to adjust those too, while you try them on."

As they had been fitted, it was no surprise to Alex that her school robes fit perfectly. They were divided into winter and summer, the main difference being the underrobe, which was made of a thick black material for winter, and a thin white one for summer.

"What do I wear with the collar?" she asked when she tried the summer robe on. It looked a bit strange without a tie, she thought, even if the material was embroidered.

"For now, just leave the top button undone," advised Madam Malkin - a slightly plump woman who looked to be about the same age as McGonagall. "A lot of older girls like to get an underrobe with a bit of a plunging neck and wear a necklace with it, but you're a bit young for that, I think. Another option would be a high collar, but that's a bit out of fashion now."

Alex accepted her advice, still thinking it would be better with a tie - or something. She paid for the robes - three Galleons! - and left clutching a single, small, paper bag. Somehow, all her robes fit inside - though Malkin warned her the charm would fail after a day or two.

"Okay, where next?" she said, looking excitedly down the street. Shopping was _fun_. Especially when you had loads of money.

"Why don't you decide?" said McGonagall, smiling.

"Books!" Alex said. She was looking forward to that most - though the robes had been nice.

"As luck would have it, Flourish and Blotts' is close. This way."

Flourish and Blotts' was unlike any Muggle bookstore Alex had seen. It was small - about the size of the Dursley's living room - and quiet, with no books that you could just pick up and read. There _were_ bookshelves lining all the walls, but the books within were locked behind glass. The centre of the room was filled with comfortable-looking chairs, arranged like a doctor's waiting room, and at the back end of the room there was a counter with stools in front, like a bar. It felt more like a jewelery shop than one for books.

The place was empty when they entered - of customers, at least. A wizard wearing heavy purple robes stood in the corner, watching them. An embroidered patch on the breast announced him to be "Ricky" from _Sorcerous Security_. And behind the counter was a sales assistant.

"Welcome!" he said, moving forward to shake their hands. "Always a pleasure to see you, Professor McGonagall."

"And you, Mr. Blott," she replied. So this was no mere assistant, but the owner himself. And was Professor McGonagall _blushing?_

"And who's this?" he asked as he turned to Alex. She suddenly realised she hadn't changed her disguise back. McGonagall covered for her. She pulled out her wand and gave her a short, sharp tap on the head.

Alex couldn't help but let out a surprised squeak as she felt herself changing involuntarily. It was extremely strange, being transfigured, when you were so used to doing it yourself. She didn't like it. But she wasn't going to throw a fit over it now.

"Alex Potter," she said, giving him her hand. To her great surprise, he kissed it rather than shaking it.

"An honour," he said, before leading them over to the counter. "I expect you're after books for Hogwarts?"

"That's right," Alex said, taking a seat on a stool. "I've got a list-"

"Not to worry, not to worry," Mr. Blott interrupted, smiling at her. "I have the list too. Now, let's see..." - he pulled a piece of parchment from below the counter - "let's start with Potions. I'll be right back."

He disappeared through a door. Alex got a glimpse of a long corridor lined with cabinets before the door swung closed. Not a minute later Mr. Blott returned, holding a colourful box. _Magical Draughts and Potions,_ it declared, and it was painted with pictures of potions paraphernalia. When he placed it on the surface of the counter, Alex was surprised to see it was made of wood.

"A standard introduction to Potions," he said as he gently pulled the front of the box open. His voice was quiet, almost reverent. Alex's neck tingled pleasantly.

He pulled the book out. Unlike the box, it was quite plain, but clearly of quality make: bound in leather, it was surprisingly small - no larger than a normal paperback - and thin, like a notebook. He leafed to the contents page and showed it to Alex, a long finger running down the chapter titles. A shiver went down her spine. There was just something about the quiet of the shop, filled only with the sound of turning pages.

"You see it begins with how to set up a Potions Laboratory correctly, the specifics of ingredient preparation, and then some theory, before listing fifty common Potions. A cure for boils, a nasal supersensory draught, that sort of thing. Simple, yet useful."

He placed the book back into its box and closed the lid.

"How much is it?" Alex asked, curious. It was clear that books were something of a luxury good in the wizarding world. Mr. Blott didn't seem put out by her question.

"Let me see," he said, and he tapped the box with his wand. "Ah, yes. This one is three Galleons."

Alex wanted to gasp, but stopped herself, not wanting to be rude. She did some quick maths: that was almost £500! And if she had eight books to buy... no wonder McGonagall told her to bring thirty Galleons.

"Will that be a problem?" Mr. Blott asked, completely politely. He must have noticed her surprise.

"No, not at all," Alex said, reassuring him. She _really_ wanted those books. And McGonagall wouldn't take her somewhere she'd get completely ripped off, surely.

"Excellent. You can't put a price on knowledge, I always say." Alex found that rather funny, as that was exactly what Mr. Blott did for a living. "Well then, what's next? Let's see. Ah, yes, Professor McGonagall's favourite: _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_. I'll be right back."

He disappeared again, and Alex wondered why he didn't just get all the books at once. She supposed he liked talking each book over with his customers. He really seemed to love them.

Mr. Blott returned promptly with the book. This one didn't come in a box, but it _was_ sealed in some way - the plain, black leather binding encased the whole thing - no pages were visible. Gold lettering announcing the title and author was on the front and spine, and half-way down the cover was a small keyhole.

"You need a key for this one," Mr. Blott explained, clearly enjoying himself. He took a keyring from his pocket - which bore two keys - and inserted one into the lock. When he turned the key, the leather around the sides withdrew, revealing the pages. Unlocked, it looked like a normal book. "They keys are unique, mind, so if you lose them, I'm afraid you'll have to buy another. I suggest leaving the spare at home, just in case."

Alex thought of the Dursleys, and decided against it. If she lost the key, she doubted they'd be willing to mail her the replacement - if Hogwarts even received the post, that was.

"Professor McGonagall will be able to tell you the contents of this one better than I, I'm sure!" Mr. Blott exclaimed, but he opened the book to the contents again anyway. "As you can see, it focuses mainly on the theory and practice of the Inanimate Mutation and Transformation spells. A fine foundation for further study in Transfiguration. And this one is also three Galleons."

Alex nodded as he relocked the book. A thousand pounds on two books! The Dursleys would be horrified - if she ever told them.

"Charms next, I think!" Mr. Blott said, but as he turned to go, McGonagall intervened.

"Perhaps we might save some time and retrieve all of the remaining books together? Unfortunately, we have much to do today, and I don't know about Alexandra, but I'm beginning to think about lunch."

Mr. Blott's face fell slightly, but he recovered quickly enough.

"Of course, Professor! I understand completely. Well then, I'll be a bit longer this time, but shan't be long!"

"It's a pity," said Alex while he was gone. "I do like the way he shows the books."

"A very... passionate man," said McGonagall with a faint smile.

Alex smiled back - she felt like she was sharing a secret with McGonagall, now - and Mr. Blott returned, carrying a small stack of books.

"Well then," he said, setting them down gently before laying them out so that she could see them all. Beyond the fun of showing the customer the books, Alex supposed that it was important that he display that everything was genuine, and in pristine condition. With the amount she was paying, she'd expect nothing less. "Let's see... these three," - he indicated the books for History, Latin, and Herbology - "are category two, so cost only one Galleon, and have no special features. Let's have a look at the others."

He picked up _Introduction to Natural Philosophy_. It was bound, like all the others, in leather - navy blue, this time, with golden edging. It was also somewhat thicker than the Potions and Transfiguration books - though not quite as thick as _A History of Magic_ or _A Greenthumb's Guide_.

"This one requires a password - though it isn't unique like _Introduction to Transfiguration_. Please repeat after me: 'Before Matter, Magic'."

Alex did so, and the book clicked. Mr. Blott showed her the contents.

"The first half is a general introduction to philosophical thought," he said, pointing to a few of the chapter titles - Anaximander, Ptolemy and Descartes. "The latter half introduces natural philosophy - Flamel, Newton, and the like."

He put the book down, and picked up _The Standard Book of Spells_. "You need a wand to open this one. Three taps will do it." He showed her with his wand - which he kept underneath the counter, of all places - and the book flipped open. In the now familiar ritual, he turned to the contents. "Let's see. Ah, yes, I remember now. It starts with the twelve basic wand positions - fully illustrated, of course - before introducing a bit of incantation theory, and then it touches base with each of the Schools of Charms, exemplifying each school with a charm. And you've got a lovely appendix, too - a long section on household charms."

That was going to be the first book she read, Alex decided. While she wanted to understand Transfiguration more, she could already do quite a bit of it. Charms - that was the kind of magic she'd never been able to do.

"And lastly, Quentin Trimble's book on the Dark Arts." He picked up the book, handling it with noticeable distaste. It had a cover of cardboard, not leather, and the paper was clearly of a lower quality. "I will be honest, Miss Potter. This is a category five book. Normally I wouldn't stock it - it's the kind of book I'd expect Montery Hall to use, not Hogwarts. But, well," - he glanced at Professor McGonagall somewhat sheepishly - "the Professors choose the books, not Flourish and Blott's. This one is just four Sickles."

Alex couldn't help but notice that Mr. Blott neglected his usual contents run-down with the Dark Arts book. He really didn't like it. She supposed she'd find out why when she returned to the Dursleys.

McGonagall coughed lightly, and Mr. Blott rang up her books on a rather old fashioned looking till.

"So, in total, it comes to fourteen Galleons and four Sickles."

Over two thousand pounds of books. _They had better be good,_ Alex thought as she counted the money out. She decided to keep her Sickles and pay with fifteen Galleons - some change would come in handy. After giving her the change - her purse was now bulging, as Sickles were larger than Galleons - Mr. Blott stacked up her books, tied them together with some ribbon, before placing them in a nice paper bag not unlike Madam Malkin's.

"Well then, Miss Potter. I hope you enjoy your books, and I look forward to seeing you again next year!"

They left the peaceful shop for the bustling street and Alex once more had to wait a moment for her eyes to adjust. Her tummy rumbled.

"Can we go for lunch now?" she asked, looking at her watch. It was just past noon.

"One more first, I think," said McGonagall sympathetically. "We'd best split up. You go and get your wand - Ollivander's, just a few shops down on the right - and I can get you your stationary and Potions equipment."

"Alright," said Alex, a bit disappointed she wouldn't get to look at cauldrons. But her stomach was making the decisions now. "Should I wait for you at the wand shop? Oh! I suppose I should give you some money, too!"

"Meeting outside Ollivander's sounds like as good a plan as any. And one Galleon will be more than enough to cover a cauldron, equipment, plus stationary. We'll go to the apothecary after lunch."

Alex passed McGonagall a Galleon and made a promise not to wander off before heading for Ollivander's wand shop.

Ollivander's looked less like a shop and more like the Design classroom at school. It was a large room with a stone floor, cluttered with work benches and strange looking machines. Wands in various states of completion were spread over every surface, and hundreds of jars of Potions ingredients sat on shelves on the walls.

"I'll be just a moment!" called the man - Ollivander, Alex supposed - who was sitting at one of the machines with his back to the door. It looked complicated: a circular platform made of metal, it resembled a kind of iron tree stump - rings and all. Strange markings were etched into the metal, and Ollivander was fiddling with various knobs and dials. Hundreds of tiny pieces of wood floated in the air above the rings, each of them carved into a unique and precise shape. As Ollivander moved a lever, they rotated around the centre. Ollivander peered at them closely, and turned a few more knobs, making fine adjustments to the position of various parts.

"That should do it," he said, and pressed a large red button. With a sucking sound, all the little parts of wood rushed together in the centre, fusing together to form a long, thin cylinder of wood. Looking at it, Alex would never have guessed it was made of so many parts - it looked like a normal piece of wood. _Wow_, she thought. It was a lot more complicated than she had assumed.

"Well, now," said Ollivander, spinning around on his stool. He was an old man - much older than McGonagall, and had Einstein-like white hair. "You'll be wanting a wand, I expect."

"Are all wands like that?" Alex asked, pointing to the cylinder of wood still hovering in the air. How could something like that ever be discovered? It boggled the mind. Surely it hadn't been an accident - it was too complicated.

"More or less, more or less... I'm always making improvements. Come and see." He beckoned her over to a workbench. A couple of completed wands were sitting on it, as well as a few half-done ones. Ollivander picked up one of the wands - made of a dark black wood - and passed it to her without fuss. It was dead in her hands - she felt nothing at all. _Was that meant to happen? Shouldn't I be able to feel magic, or something?_

"I made that wand twenty years ago," he said. "Ebony, with a dragon heartstring core. Two hundred and twenty three individual parts." He took the wand back as quickly as he'd given it to her, and picked up another, before passing her another, of a much lighter wood. It too felt just like a stick. "Now, _this _wand... this wand was made by my grandfather. A true master. Over five hundred parts. Beautifully crafted. Notice the way the handle is carved from the wand itself - not an inch of wasted space. Tricky to do right - it's all too easy to ruin a wand by carving it in the wrong place. I daren't risk it."

He paused in awe, momentarily speechless. Alex looked around uncomfortably and held the wand out for him to take back.

"It's, er, very nice," she said. _Now, give me mine, _she thought. She was suddenly feeling rather impatient. _What if all the wands just felt like wood?_ "How do I know what wand to buy?"

That seemed to knock Mr. Ollivander from his contemplation. "That's where I come in!" he said, and he took the wand from Alex before flicking it. A tape measure shot across the room and started jumping around Alex, measuring various parts of her body. She followed it out of the corner of her eye. It was like a fly.

"Stay here, Miss Potter," he said, and he left the room from a side door. For a few long moments, the only sound was the tape measure, extending and shortening all around her. Ollivander returned bearing an armful of long, thin boxes. "Every wand I sell has one of three cores: Dragon heartstring, Unicorn tail hair, or Phoenix feather," he explained. He put the boxes down on the bench and the tape measure fell to the floor.

"What's the difference?" asked Alex.

"Well, that is hard to say, as a wand is not just its core - the wood is important too. But generally, dragon heartstrings are the most powerful, unicorn hairs the most delicate, and Phoenix feathers the most mysterious, often possessing unusual and unique qualities."

"I want a dragon one," Alex said quickly. It was a no-brainer. Obviously you should go for the most powerful wand.

"I'm afraid it doesn't work like that, Miss Potter. Not all wands work equally well for all wizards. We must find the wand which suits you best - whatever it contains."

"I suppose," muttered Alex. _I still want a dragon one_.

"Here, try this," he said, passing her a very long wand made of a white wood. She grasped the handle, but before she could even get a proper look at it, Ollivander whipped it out of her hand.

"Hey!" she said, annoyed.

"No no, not aspen, not quite right," Mr. Ollivander said, apparently talking to himself. "Hmm... how about this? Black Walnut and Dragon Heartstring." He passed her another, this one made of a much darker wood. Alex snatched it from Ollivander, wanting to hold it properly this time, but before she could even hold it up, it let off a loud _BANG_ and blew itself out of her hand.

"Ow," she said, shaking her stinging hand.

"Let's not add the quills before turning off the heat, eh? A bit volatile, that one. But a step in the right direction, I think. How about something a bit more peaceful? Give this a wave: holly, with phoenix feather." He handed her a handsome wand and she gave it a flick. Across the room, a jar exploded.

"Nope!" said Mr. Ollivander, taking it from her gingerly. "A bit too much power, I think. Well then, something a bit more... refined. Elm, with a unicorn tail hair. Give it a try."

Pointing the wand at the floor in case of an accident, she gave it a flick. The wand let out only a puff of smoke. _Was this normal? What if there wasn't a wand for her?_ Mr. Ollivander just laughed.

"I don't think it likes you, Miss Potter! A good match, I think, but a certain conflict in temperament remains. I think I know just the wand. Willow, 14 inches, with a unicorn tail hair." He opened another box and pulled out a lightly coloured wand. Alex thought it was beautiful. "Simple, yet elegant," Mr. Ollivander continued, "Slightly swishy, but firm enough for good Transfiguration. Give it a try."

She took the wand, and the moment she touched it she knew it was the one. A warmth spread through her, and she raised the wand almost involuntarily. With a squark, a tiny red robin burst from the tip and began flying around the room, chirruping merrily.

"Oh bravo!" cried Ollivander in delight, clapping his hands.

Alex smiled at her wand. It wasn't dragon, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

"Yes, yes, willow is the wood for you, to be sure. A fine wand - made by my grandfather. One of the few I have left. Perfect for complex, sophisticated magic, enhanced by the stability of the unicorn hair, albeit at the expense of a bit of power."

Alex frowned.

"What do you mean? I won't be able to do powerful spells?"

"That depends on you, Miss Potter," said Mr. Ollivander, who began replacing wands into their boxes. "It's a complex thing, the relation between wand and wizard. A well-matched wand never limits the witch, that I know. Its strengths are your strengths. Your weaknesses are its weaknesses. And that does not mean your spells will not be powerful. Only that, perhaps, certain spells would have been _more_ powerful, had you matched with a more powerful wand."

"Oh. Okay," said Alex, somewhat reassured. Ollivander took the wand back from her, to put it in the box, and she felt the loss immediately. She watched Ollivander carefully as he took the box over to a till. _He better not drop it, _she thought. She wanted to hold it again - how Mr. Blott was able to keep his under a counter was beyond her. But her Muggles clothes had no place to hold a 14 inch piece of wood, so she would have to keep it in the box. For now.

She paid Mr. Ollivander eight Galleons before leaving. Professor McGonagall was waiting outside, a large wooden trunk standing on its side next to her. Alex grinned at her.

"Willow, 14 inches, unicorn hair," she said before McGonagall asked, and moved to get it out of the box.

"Not here," said McGonagall, "You can show me during lunch. Come on, we'll go to Florean Fortescue's."

Florean Fortescue's turned out to be an ice cream parlour, but they served other food too. They took a seat outside and waited to be served, looking over the menu. Before long, a teenage boy came over, looking like he could do with a dose of Blemish Blaster.

Alex was starving.

"Steak baguette, please," she said, "and a chocolate sundae."

Alex showed McGonagall her wand while they waited, and they moved her bags inside the trunk, joining the pack of stationary, surprisingly small cauldron, and various bits of glassware McGonagall had bought for Alex while she was in Ollivander's. Their lunch came quickly, and Alex tucked in with gusto, but quickly found that her eyes had been bigger than her stomach.

"What's Quidditch?" Alex asked as she switched to her sundae before she got too full.

"Britain's main sport," said McGonagall. _Britain, not Magical Britain_, Alex noticed. She supposed it made sense. For witches and wizards, magical Britain _was_ Britain. "Played on brooms high in the air, with a variety of balls and positions. A rather violent game, yet it has its own beauty."

Alex giggled at the idea of McGonagall, looking so much like a storybook witch, riding a broom. It was just so _silly!_ But it sounded fun, maybe. Flying more than Quidditch, she thought. Quidditch sounded fun to watch, but Alex wasn't sure about the whole violent part.

They paid for their lunch - less than a Sickle each - before planning the rest of their shopping.

"Not much more to do," said McGonagall, looking over the equipment list. "Just the apothecary, really, and that won't take long. Did you want to get a pet?"

Alex thought for a moment. She didn't really have strong feelings one way or the other - though she knew she didn't want a toad. But she also didn't want to have to go back to the Dursleys.

"We could take a look?" she said.

"Of course. But first, the apothecary."

They retraced their steps back to Diagon Alley for _Slug and Jiggers_. Inside, it was like a huge Pic 'n' Mix shop, with many aisles of glass containers holding the most disgusting looking ingredients. Alex saw snakes' eyes, dead wasps, and a pile of slimy worms called Flobberworms. Luckily, it didn't smell. There were plants too: common ones like nettles and conkers, but more exotic ingredients too. There was even a sealed jar containing what looked like a tiny baby! It had a plant growing from its head, and it was submerged in a greenish brown liquid. _MANDRAKE SEED - G1_ declared a piece of card next to it.

But today they weren't using the pic 'n' mix. McGonagall led her away from the aisles and over to the counter.

"One first year kit, please," she said, and the assistant retrieved it from under the counter. It was a fancy looking thing: a large wooden box with a glass window, revealing countless compartments and bottles packed with interesting substances.

Alex paid eight Sickles for it and added it to her trunk.

Their last stop was _The Magical Menagerie_, which sounded - and smelled - like someone had tried to cram an entire zoo into one room. Dancing rats hopped around a cage by the counter, owls hooted from the rafters, and a variety of toads were leaping in and out of a small pool at the back of the building. To one side cats roamed around an enclosure with tall glass walls, and on the other a number of snakes slept quietly in tanks. There were even a few dogs roaming freely, their tails wagging enthusiastically as they investigated each and every customer.

"What do you think?" asked McGonagall, eyeing the dogs like they carried deadly diseases.

"Not a toad," said Alex, heading over to the cats.

"No," agreed McGonagall. "An owl would be useful. You can use them to deliver mail."

_To who?_ While there was something funny about sending an owl to pester the Dursleys every week, she didn't think she'd find one very useful. And really, they were a bit freaky. Those eyes, the way their heads turned. _Who'd want a bird for a pet?_ Pets were for cuddling, in Alex's opinion.

"I'd like a cat," she said, giggling as a little black kitten came up to her and started swatting at the glass. "Ohhh, they're so cute!"

"An intelligent, elegant animal," added McGonagall, who seemed to find something amusing. A trio of cats came over to them and sat by the edge of the tall glass, right in front of McGonagall. They just sat there, staring at her intently. _Weird_.

"I don't know," said Alex, still watching the black one. "Isn't taking care of a pet a lot of work? I don't really know how to look after a cat..."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, Miss!" said a woman behind them. It turned out to be one of the staff. She had a toad on her shoulder. _Urgh_. "Charmed collar, you see. Makes them do their business outside, keeps them from wandering too far, and come when you call for them."

"I want that one," Alex said, pointing to the black kitten that was now licking its own back.

McGonagall looked at her in surprise. "Are you sure? Perhaps a bit more thought would be beneficial..."

But the moment Alex had made the decision, she knew it was right.

"How much is he?" she asked.

"For you, darling, I'll go down to thirteen Sickles. Another five for the collar."

Just short of a Galleon.

"All right," she said, and the lady smiled at her, before clapping her hands.

"Dumbledore!" she called, and McGonagall seemed to choke in surprise. Alex remembered the name - it was the same name as the headmaster of Hogwarts. She giggled. The kitten looked up at the lady, before running to a shimmering gap in the glass. It passed through without problem, and bounded over to where they were standing. "Now, you pick him up like _this_," the lady said, showing Alex how to hold him properly. "Here, you take him."

Alex grinned and took hold of him.

"He's warm!" she said, surprised. She'd never really held an animal before. It was strange. She could feel his chest moving as he breathed. Dumbledore rubbed his head up against her arm and she giggled. "Heeellooo," she said in a sing-song voice, stroking his belly with a free finger.

"This way, please." The lady led them over to the counter and gently put a red collar over Dumbledore's head. "Would you like to rename him?"

_I probably should_, thought Alex, sneaking a look at McGonagall. _But... it's kinda funny._

"Dumbledore's good," she said with a grin, and McGonagall's eyebrows shot upwards. Before she had a chance to stop it, the lady tapped the collar with her wand.

"Dumbledore," she said, and the name appeared on the collar in golden lettering. McGonagall's lips thinned.

After being persuaded to buy some cat food - and a box to carry him in, and a couple of small toys - they left the shop with Dumbledore in his new cage. He hadn't liked it at first, but McGonagall cast a calming charm on him, and after that he was content to lie down and lick himself.

"Well, I think that's everything," said McGonagall as they passed into The Leaky Cauldron. They caught the Knight Bus back to Privet Drive, where McGonagall gave her a ticket to the Hogwarts' Express.

"It leaves from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Kings Cross Station, on September the first," she explained outside the front door. "The platform is easy to access: just walk through one of the barriers between platforms nine and ten. I shall see you on September the first, Miss. Potter."

And with that she apparated away with a quiet _pop_, turning on the spot and disappearing into thin air. Alex pulled her trunk up to the door - luckily, it had wheels - and used her key to get in. Vernon was waiting for her, sitting half in the hallway, half in the sitting room. He looked over her new stuff and his jaw clenched.

"Dinner's at five," he said with a grimace, as if he wanted to say a lot more. Alex nodded, and dragged everything up to her room in a series of thuds.

What a day!

_A.N. Massive shopping trip, yes. But I think I avoided many of the cliches. Hopefully you found this fresh. For the curious, the description of Willow from Pottermore:_

_Willow is an uncommon wand wood with healing power, and I have noted that the ideal owner for a willow wand often has some (usually unwarranted) insecurity, however well they may try and hide it. While many confident customers insist on trying a willow wand (attracted by their handsome appearance and well-founded reputation for enabling advanced, non-verbal magic) my willow wands have consistently selected those of greatest potential, rather than those who feel they have little to learn. It has always been a proverb in my family that he who has furthest to travel will go fastest with willow._


	5. Summer Magic

A.N. I hope you're the type of person who reads the books in Skyrim.

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**Alexandra Potter: The Girl Who Lived**

By Taure

_Chapter Five: Summer Magic_

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… _and so, according to Hague, the history of Britain can be cleanly divided into two epochs: before and after 1689, when the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy was passed. Prior to this event, wizarding and Muggle history are one and the same: wizards publicly practiced their magic, held positions at court, even fought in armies side-by-side with Muggles. "Magical History", therefore - as opposed to history in general - is the study of wizarding societies after 1689. It is now a widely accepted proposition, among wizarding historians, that magical history began in 1689. That is not to say that there are no significant magical events before 1689 - there are indeed many. However, these events are part of a greater web of mixed wizarding and Muggle history, and so cannot be considered pure wizarding history. The modern period will thus be the subject of this book, which should be remembered to be a mere overview. The author encourages the reader to investigate beyond this brief summary, and for this purpose each chapter concludes with a list of worthy volumes for further study._

Alex paused to think, taking the opportunity to stroke Dumbledore. Though it was now August and beautifully sunny outside, she was shut away in her bedroom, reading _A History of Magic_ for the second time. On her first read she'd skimmed the introduction, wanting to get to the good stuff, but she'd noticed, as she read the book, that Muggles were barely mentioned - and when they were, they were dismissed without much consideration.

Take Grindelwald. He had practically masterminded the whole of the Second World War, with both the Nazi and Soviet governments under his control. But in the end, international wizarding forces hadn't shut him down because he was killing millions of Muggles. No. When the war was over, Grindelwald was charged with breaking the Statute of Secrecy.

Returning to the introduction made it explicit. It was simple: wizards weren't interested in Muggles. Even when the history of wizards mixed with Muggles, they weren't interested. It wasn't "pure", so it wasn't magical history.

But Alex thought the idea of wizards openly practicing magic before 1689 was fascinating. She grinned, remembering Vernon's face when she told him that the storm which sank the Spanish Armada had been sent by British wizards, at the behest of Queen Elizabeth. Such nuggets of information about wizards from _before_ the Statute were few and far between in _A History of Magic_. Alex already wanted to return to Diagon Alley, to find out more.

She was about to return to the book when Petunia's shrill voice sounded from downstairs.

"Dinner!"

Alex noted the page number before carefully putting the book away. Given how much she'd paid for it, she refused to fold the corner of the page, or, even worse, leave the book spread-eagled.

"Alexandra!" - Vernon, that time.

"Coming!" she shouted, and ran downstairs.

Dinner was some kind of barbecued chicken with salad. Alex took her seat at the kitchen table - they never really ate in the dining room, except at Christmas - and helped herself to a generous amount of meat. She scowled at Dudley when she saw he'd taken all the pieces with crispy skin. She knew better than to argue, though. Separating Dudley from his food was like trying to get Vernon to say 'magic'.

"You seen the news, Pet?" said Vernon as he tucked in. He looked excited - like he'd been waiting to ask about it all day.

"Not yet," she replied, taking a delicately small bite and chewing it for ages. Alex heaped a load of chicken and coleslaw onto her fork and shoved it into her mouth. "Manners, Alex. No, Vernon, I was in the garden all day. Do you know, Mrs. Holliday's been-"

"Never mind that now!" said Vernon, glancing quickly at her and Dudley. "Some Soviet state declared independence from the commies! Everyone's saying the USSR's about to collapse."

"Oh," said Petunia. "That's good."

"Victory at last!" declared Vernon, with such relish that you'd think he was personally responsible. Privately, Alex wondered if wizards had anything to do with it. She remembered reading about how Grindelwald gained control of Russia after defeating the sorcerer Rasputin.

"Did you know," Alex began, intending to inform Vernon exactly of that fact, "that the Russian revolution was started by-"

"No more!" interrupted Vernon, wagging a chubby finger. "I've had enough of your fairytale rubbish!"

Alex speared a piece of chicken violently. Did Vernon actually not believe what she said, even though he knew magic was real? Or did he just not _want_ to believe it?

Either way, he was stupid.

The rest of dinner passed awkwardly. Dudley, as usual, was just wolfing down as much food as he could. Vernon alternated between glowering at her and struggling to make sure Dudley left enough food for his own seconds. And Petunia filled the silence with gossip about half of Little Whinging.

Eventually Dudley had taken his last bite and Alex got up to leave, intending to return to her reading. But Petunia had other plans.

"It's your turn to wash up today, Alexandra," she said, stacking the plates by the sink. Of course, it was always Alex's turn and never Dudley's. For a moment Alex felt like refusing - she had her own money now. The Dursleys couldn't control her with the offer of pocket money. But she still needed them to drive her to King's Cross.

Perhaps there was another way...

"Of course, Aunt Petunia," said Alex, in the sweetest voice she could manage. "I know just the _spell_ for it."

The Dursleys' reaction was immediate. Petunia squeaked, and spun to face her. Dudley gaped. And Vernon -

"ENOUGH," he roared, standing up. "What have I said about the S-word? Go to your room, now! And you won't be getting your pocket money this week, mark my words!"

Alex fled before she could start laughing. It was just too easy! She wasn't even sure if she could have cast the spell, if Petunia had called her bluff: though she had read her Charms book three times now, she hadn't yet tried a spell - the book was full of warnings about the danger of magic gone wrong.

She opened her door to find that Dumbledore had curled up and gone to sleep on her pillow, enjoying the last of the day's sun. She smiled and sat next to him, running her hands through his fur, telling him all about what had happened in the kitchen. Eventually, however, he got bored of her and wandered out. Alex pouted slightly, but let him go - he'd come back if she called, after all.

She flipped herself around and opened her trunk, which she had put at the foot of her bed. Everything was within easy reach that way. For a few minutes she just looked at all her stuff, stroking the spines of the books, feeling the robes, riffling through her ingredients. But eventually she turned back to the books and pulled out _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_. She'd read all of her books now, but she found herself always returning to Transfiguration, Charms and Potions. She'd read each of them at least twice.

She took her wand out of its case and settled back on the bed, flipping to chapter two. The title, "Articulations in Transfiguration", was printed in calligraphic type at the top of the page, and a decorative wand was printed either side of the title.

_In the study of Charms, there exist twelve principle wand positions, seventeen secondary positions, fifty-five variants, and twelve varieties of motion. Transfiguration, however, is a far more elegant discipline. Students of Transfiguration need use only seven of the twelve principal positions, none of the secondary positions, sixteen variants, and five motion archetypes. This unity reflects the more advanced state of theoretical knowledge in Transfiguration. The fundamentals of Transfiguration are well understood and the discipline is considered almost complete. By its very nature Charms is a more varied area of study, and as such has not yet lent itself to theoretical unity. Students of Charms will find themselves learning a variety of spell theories and models, some of which are contradictory, and different Charms reflect different aspects of each. Very often a student must learn a large body of new spell theory for a single Charm. In modern Transfiguration, however, one uses a mere handful of spells, each of which can be extended and modified to suit the caster's need, all of which are backed by a single body of spell theory._

_The prospective student should not think, however, that this means Transfiguration is easier than Charms. Indeed, many find the opposite to be true. Theoretical unity has been bought at the cost of difficulty: much of the theory underpinning Transfiguration is extremely advanced. Many find true understanding (necessary to achieve complete Transfiguration) to be beyond them. However, most students should, with an appropriate level of commitment, be able to effect a partial Transfiguration._

_In order to perform Transfiguration, complete or partial, one must have a good knowledge of the wand positions and motions mentioned above. Though there are fewer than Charms, the theory of each is significantly deeper. If one wishes to perform the best Transfiguration one can, one must do more than be able to replicate the wand motions precisely and accurately, though this is certainly necessary. One must truly understand the significance of each part of the spell: the rules which govern its usage, whence it draws its power, how it combines with the other positions, and how it contributes to the final effect. As this book is an introduction to Transfiguration through the path of inanimate Transfiguration, only those theoretical elements which are relevant to inanimate Transfiguration will be outlined. Articulation theory of Animate Transfiguration is more advanced, and Human Transfiguration and Conjuration more advanced still. These will be covered in later books. Transfiguration Fields are beyond the scope of this series: an excellent introduction to this advanced topic is "Spontaneous Morphosis" by A.L. Terring._

_The subject of this chapter, given the importance of understanding of Articulation, is a detailed discussion of each wand position, variant and motion. Full illustrations are provided to aid the reader assume the correct position. However, it is recommended that students do not attempt Transfiguration without appropriate supervision: both to guide learning as no book can, and also to reverse any unfortunate accidents which may occur._

_Before we examine the individual wand positions, however, it will be beneficial to cover some general wand handling information for Transfiguration. Articulation in Transfiguration tends to involve a rigid grip; many otherwise competent students who find that their Transfigurations lack power will find that it is because their grip is too loose. Although the spell-complex of Transfiguration is delicate during the formation stage, once cast Transfiguration is some of the most powerful magic around. As such, a rigid grip is needed to propel that power..._

Already familiar with this part, Alex skipped forward a few pages to the wand positions themselves. She rested the book on her knees and raised her wand, copying the pictures.

_...The first position is the most simple. The wand is held out in front of oneself, with the tip pointing away from the body and towards the spell object. The hilt of the wand should be held between the thumb and third knuckle of the forefinger for precision, with the other three fingers providing stability. There are three variants: closed hand, open hand, and half hand. Half hand may be considered to be the default first position, as it is the most balanced._

_The first position is the most common position, and features in almost all spells which take a physical object. The role of the first position is the assignment of the spell object. Sometimes this occurs at the beginning of a spell, or in the middle, but it is most commonly associated with the end of a spell, and often coincides with the finishing of the incantation. The object of the spell derives not from the physical direction of the wand, but from the intent of the caster. A spell must never be cast with confused intent: at the point of the first position, one must be certain of what one wishes to do with the spell, and indeed, that one wishes to use the spell at all. If not, the spell may backfire._

_Another source of confused intent can be the physical position of the wand. This is normally not a problem, as the wand will be pointing in the general direction of the object. However, every so often one reads in the paper about some poor soul who tried to cast a spell at a 180 degree angle to the direction of the wand, with uniformly unpleasant results. Casting spells in a contradictory direction to wand direction is an advanced casting technique indeed, and even then only possible with spells without a direct vector (that is, spells that form in a straight line between the subject and the object). Admittedly Transfiguration spells tend to take an indirect vector, but students should nonetheless be extremely careful with not confusing their object intent at this early stage of study._

_The position of the elbow and shoulder are important, too. The first position is a lowered-arm position. One should generally use a straight arm, and the arm should never rise above the position of parallel to the ground. A bent elbow can, if used in a certain way, imbue the spell with more power than is wise, and a higher arm position transitions one into the third position, not the first. Both of these casting methods are associated with Dark magic, and are dangerous._

Alex quickly lowered her elbow, looking around nervously, as if the Aurors would burst through her door at any moment. Sitting as she was, it was all too easy to raise the elbow up, especially as she wanted a good look at her own hand. Still, elbow aside, she thought she had the first position down well.

Alex spent the next several hours practicing her wand positions, reading and re-reading the book's advice. Eventually, though, she wanted to try a spell.

She thought she was ready. She'd read the book several times now, and thought she understood a lot of it. She would start with something very simple: a reshaping. The Transversion spell, which affected substance, was a lot more complicated than the Mutation spell.

She looked around her room for something that she could transform, before her eyes landed on a glass. Perfect: should could try to change the shape of the glass. She remembered that glass was one of the easier materials to transform, second only to wood. She grabbed the glass and brought it over to her bed.

_Okay, here goes_, she thought, trying to contain her excitement. Her first spell! She quashed the feeling down. She had to think the spell through. She was transforming just one object, so she wouldn't need any taps: you used taps if you wanted to combine multiple objects. The first position would be sufficient to give the spell its object. She quickly decided that she wanted to increase complexity, so that meant a jab, not a reeling motion. And a twist would be needed too, to symbolise transformation.

_Okay, so, twist from open first to closed first, then jab_. All she needed now was the Latinate marker for glass. She rummaged for her Latin book and looked through the appendix. _Aha! Vitro._

She was ready. She pointed her wand at the glass, rotating her wrist slowly, thinking about how she wanted the sides of the glass to ripple. Then, when the twist was complete, she gave her wand a firm jab towards the glass, making sure not to bend her elbow, nor to actually touch the glass. "_Mutato Vitro!_" she said, firmly, and watched with wonder as the glass transformed before her eyes. It was if it had turned liquid for a moment, rearranging itself, before resetting in a new position: instead of straight, the sides of the glass were now wavy. _It worked!_ Not quite as wavy as she had wanted, and perhaps it was a bit uneven, but still: it had worked!

"Brilliant," Alex whispered, picking up the glass.

She was about to try another when she heard the sound of heavy footsteps running down the hall and bursting into the bathroom. Seconds later came the unmistakable sound of someone throwing up. Alex pulled a face, trying to control her own sudden nausea. Hearing someone throwing up was almost enough to make her want to puke herself.

More footsteps followed, and then she heard Petunia's voice.

"Oh my Diddy-Dumpkins, are you alright?" she said.

"Yeah, mum," he replied, "I'm-"

Whatever he was about to say was replaced with the sound of more vomiting.

"Oh dear! And with Piers' birthday tomorrow too! Oh my poor boy..."

And suddenly, Alex had an idea.

She replaced her Transfiguration book and pulled out _Magical Draughts and Potions_. She flipped to the back and found what she was looking for: _Regurgitation Repression Potion_. She read the instructions and ingredients. _I can do this_.

She found Dudley standing over the toilet in his pyjamas, Petunia at his side, rubbing his back. Alex hadn't realised it was so late - a quick glance out the window made it obvious, though. It was the middle of the night.

"What do you want?" snapped Petunia when she saw Alex.

Alex almost changed her mind about helping them. But she wanted to have a go at a potion, and this was her chance.

"It's just, I could, you know, make something to help," she said, avoiding the word "potion".

Petunia's eyes narrowed, and it looked like she was about to say no, but she was interrupted by Dudley throwing up again. Alex spun around, not wanting to see. _Urgh._

"You can make him better?" asked Petunia quietly. "In time for Piers' party?"

"Yes," said Alex, turning back around. She hoped she could do it right. Dudley was looking rather green.

"What do you think, Dum-Dums?" whispered Petunia, rubbing Dudley's back once more.

"Do it."

Alex grinned and ran off before they could change their minds. She grabbed her potions stuff from her room and hurried downstairs to the kitchen.

"Okay, let's see..." she said to herself. A kitchen wasn't exactly a Potions laboratory as described in her book. She'd have to improvise.

She placed the cauldron on the stove, lowering the stand so it was right above the gas. Then she cleared a space on the side and took out the knives, before flipping the book open to the recipe.

_Begin with a solution of a half pint water and three drops Adder Venom (for more on the roles of venoms in healing potions, see page 135). Bring to a simmer, but do not allow to boil._

Alex measured out a half pint of water using the kitchen measuring jug and poured it into the cauldron, before adding the venom. She flipped on the gas and started preparing the other ingredients while the water heated.

At some point during the brewing, Petunia entered the kitchen and sat at the table. Alex tried to ignore her, as she needed to concentrate: it was harder than she had thought, when she first read it. She thought it would be easy to follow a list of instructions, but it was surprisingly difficult to get all the timings right, while keeping your eye on everything at once. It didn't help that many ingredients had to be cut fresh, so she couldn't prepare everything in advance.

Eventually, though, all the ingredients were in the pot and it had turned a pale silver, as the book said it should be. Alex sneaked a look at Petunia: her face had gone extremely white, and her hands were gripping the table tightly.

Alex decided not to say anything. She turned back to the potion, and, when the time was right, gave it three last anti-clockwise stirs, turning off the gas immediately after. The colour stayed the same, but with the last stir the Potion thickened, reducing to about half the volume. Alex reached up to a cupboard full of glasses and filled one with the Potion.

"He should drink all of it," she said, putting the glass down in front of Petunia. "And it's going to taste bad."

Petunia stared at the glass for about a minute, saying nothing. Alex shifted nervously. She was about to offer to go and give it to Dudley herself when Petunia snatched it up.

"I expect my kitchen to be clean in thirty minutes," she sniffed, and walked off upstairs.

Alex grinned. She started to clear up nervously, straining her ears for a hint of what was happening upstairs. Any moment she half-expected to hear a scream - while the Potion looked like the book said it should, she really had no idea if it was made correctly. It could turn Dudley into a pig for all she knew.

But no scream came, and when Alex returned upstairs with her equipment the bathroom was empty. Shrugging, she went back to her room to put all her stuff away. _It worked,_ she thought. _It must've. It worked!_

Alex yawned, and remembered how late it was. Just as she was about to turn off the light, the door opened and Petunia leaned through.

"Don't tell Vernon," she said.

The door closed before Alex could reply.


	6. Hogwarts

**Alexandra Potter**

By Taure

_Chapter Six: Hogwarts_

September 1st arrived with surprising quickness. Absorbed in her magic books as she was, Alex didn't have the time or inclination to count down the days - she was too busy! The "potions incident" remained an open secret: if Alex had thought that Petunia or Dudley would treat her differently after it, she would have been disappointed.

Luckily, Alex had long since given up any hope of the Dursleys changing their ways, and so their old routine carried on as it always had - with one difference. Whether it was because Petunia had warned him off, or out of his own fear of her magic, Dudley hadn't "got her" all summer. And with Alex off to Hogwarts, there would be no getting ever again. She was a witch now, and the Dursleys knew it.

Ever since she'd successfully transformed her glass, she'd taken to practicing magic whenever she could. Her bedroom had changed. The exposed wooden floor now felt as soft as the fluffiest carpet, through the use of an underpowered cushioning charm. And her mirror, which used to hang from string off the back of the door, now levitated above her desk. It would drop every so often, but the cushioned floor beneath it luckily stopped it from breaking.

The desk itself had changed too: she'd finally fixed the wobbly leg, using the Mutation spell to extend the wood so it matched the others. To Alex's annoyance, every couple of days it would revert back, which meant that it wasn't a complete transformation. Transfiguration when performed correctly was permanent unless Untransfigured. But each time she cast the spell it lasted longer, so Alex took that to mean that her understanding of Transfiguration was improving. Yet not as much as she wanted: while wood and glass were fine, she was still having a lot of trouble with changing anything made of metal. And composite objects were almost impossible.

Her Defence Against the Dark Arts book had been, as Mr. Blott predicted, extremely disappointing. She was only able to find one spell in the whole book - something called the Jelly Legs Jinx - and the instructions on its use were quite vague, as if the author didn't actually know how the spell functioned. The rest of the book had mostly been a sermon on the evils of Dark magic - while managing to contain very little information about how Dark magic actually _worked_. As best she could tell, Dark magic was magic that resisted other magic, but Alex knew that couldn't be the whole story: the book talked about how useful the Shield Charm was for blocking harmful magic (again, without any kind of useful information on how the Shield Charm worked, or how to use it).

In the end Alex just decided to wait for Hogwarts to learn about Defence Against the Dark Arts. She couldn't practice the Jelly Legs Jinx in her room anyway. And so _The Dark Arts: A Guide to Self-Protection_ remained the only book, aside from Latin, which Alex had read through only once.

"_Finite Incantatum_," Alex said, poking her wand at the mirror. It fell immediately: right into Alex's waiting hand. It had taken a while to figure out the basics of Undoing, and had been something of a last minute thing, when Alex realised that leaving her mirror levitating in a Muggle house was a bad idea. At first she'd just moved the mirror to the surface of the desk, but the Charm was still active, and when she woke the next morning the mirror was floating again.

After that she'd tried weighing the mirror down by putting a glass on top of it. She'd thought that would hold it until the Charm wore off: she was wrong. Once again, she woke to find her mirror floating - this time with a glass resting on top of it. So she'd learnt some Undoing from the Standard Book of Spells and had to cancel the spell altogether. She did the same for the floor, but she didn't know how to Untransfigure, so had to leave the desk as it was.

"Okay, time to go," she said to Dumbledore, and she put him inside his travel cage. "I know," she said when he made his displeasure known, "I'll let you out as soon as I can, I promise."

She returned her wand into her trunk - very soon, she'd be able to keep it with her all the time, once she wore robes - and took everything downstairs in two trips.

Vernon looked her over with beady eyes before ushering her to the car in silence. The drive to King's Cross continued as it began: not a word was spoken, and Alex was quite happy with it that way. Vernon turned the radio on and she sung quietly into the glass of the window, watching the world whizz by.

It was only as they were arriving in London that Alex realised: she never said goodbye to Annabel. In fact, she hadn't spoken to her all summer. She'd planned to, but somehow, something else always seemed to get in the way: some new spell to try, or a part of Transfiguration she hadn't got right yet. _I should have said goodbye, at least_. But perhaps it was for the best, she thought. She couldn't tell Anna about magic, and they would be going to different schools now. _Still. Maybe I can see her next summer._

Vernon didn't bother to park at King's Cross. He pulled up on the curb and, the moment Alex's stuff was out of the boot, he was off. He didn't even say goodbye. _I suppose I deserved that_, she thought, Anna still in her mind.

As she made her way inside, the presence of wizards was obvious. It was a miracle the Muggles missed it: when else in the year did the station fill with children accompanied by owls? Most appeared to have made an effort to wear Muggle clothes, but here and there Alex could spot wizards and witches in full robes, proudly striding through the station as if they owned it.

_I suppose the Muggles just think it's fancy dress_, she thought. _Or weirdos. _It would take a lot more than some strangely dressed people to make Muggles think magic existed. _All right... Platform Nine and Three Quarters_.

She made her way to between platforms nine and ten, as McGonagall had told her, and waited. She knew you had to walk through the barrier, but she wanted to see it first. She didn't have to wait long. A man and a girl her age approached, both of them red-haired, and Alex watched as they walked right into - and through - the brick wall. None of the Muggles seemed to notice.

_That doesn't look so difficult_. Alex pushed her trolley over to the wall and prodded it. Her hand went right through - and it was cold on the other side. She grinned and went through backwards, pulling her trolley in after her.

"Oof!" said someone as Alex bumped into them.

"Oh, sorry!" said Alex, turning around. She tried not to gape. The small barrier had given way to a large outdoor platform; a gleaming scarlet steam train was waiting to leave. _HOGWARTS EXPRESS_ was written in gold along the side.

"Hi! I'm Susan," said the girl she'd walked into - the same red-haired girl she'd watched go through the barrier. She was a bit shorter than Alex, and not quite so thin, with a heart-shaped face and large blue eyes.

"Alex," she replied, and was about to offer her hand when Susan leaned in for a kiss. Surprised, Alex quickly brushed Susan's cheek with the corner of her mouth. She wanted to giggle, but stopped herself. _How old fashioned!_ Yet she thought it was nice. Friendly.

"In future, I'd recommend going through the barrier forwards," said the man - Susan's Dad, Alex supposed. He was almost the opposite of Susan: tall, but in a lanky way. Though he reprimanded her, he was smiling, and it reached his eyes.

Alex blushed.

"Yes, sir," she said, politeness kicking in.

"Hah! Call me Bruce, Miss Potter. All my friends do."

Susan let out a little gasp, and Alex saw her eyes flick up to her forehead. Alex's smile froze. They knew who she was too! Just _how_ did everyone know what she looked like? It was kinda creepy.

"Does _everyone_ know who I am?" she asked, trying to keep her voice polite.

Bruce rested a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"I dare say so," he said. "The wizarding world is small - I expect every child in your year has grown up with stories of You-Know-Who and the Girl Who Lived."

Alex scowled, and Bruce laughed.

"Come now, Miss Potter - I'm sure you'll get used to it. Now, why don't you and Susan find a compartment on the train?"

Alex wasn't convinced she'd ever get used to it, but she supposed Bruce was right - she couldn't hold Susan's little moment of scar-sighting against her. Not if everyone was going to be doing it.

"Bye, Dad!" Susan called, and she kissed him on the cheek, before pushing her trolley towards the train. "Come on, Alex!"

"It was nice to meet you, sir," said Alex, accepting a kiss from the older man.

"And you, Miss Potter! You and Susan stick together, now!"

The Hogwarts Express was a very long train, and a lot more comfortable than Muggle ones. There were no carriages packed full of forward-facing seats like a Muggle train. No, this was like the Victorian trains they heard about in school: personal compartments for groups of six or so, separated from a long corridor by wooden paneling and glass doors.

"These are all full - let's try further up," said Susan as they dragged their rather heavy trunks down the corridor. Dumbledore hissed every time his box was jostled, which was often, as the train was extremely busy: they had to barge their way through the mass of students. Each compartment was packed full of children, most of them older than Alex. Excited chatter - and the occasional shout - filled the train as long-separated friends caught up, exchanging stories about their summers.

"Watch out, firsties!" someone shouted, and they jumped out of the way just in time; an older boy ran past them, a pretty girl chasing him.

"Zach!" she shouted as she ran, laughing. "I'll jinx your balls off!"

"Let's not be hasty!" the boy shouted back, still running, "what's a little smack between friends, Moon?"

"_Phalxys_!" With a buzzing sound, a tiny pinprick of red light shot forward and hit the fleeing boy's butt, making him jump. "How's that for a smack?" the girl shouted.

Alex turned to look at Susan in surprise, and they burst out laughing.

"Oi! Stebbins!" shouted another boy - a stocky red-head. "Jordan's got a Tarantula - come see!"

"I thought you were only allowed cats, owls and toads," said Alex as they continued down the corridor.

"Same," said Susan, pushing open a door.

"Don't-" said Alex, seeing what Susan had not: the privacy screen was down. Susan's eyes widened and she shut the door quickly, her face flaming.

"Not this one!" Susan squeaked, and she turned away quickly.

It didn't take long to find an emptier compartment, further up the train. It had some people in already - two girls and a boy - but they looked about the same age.

"Hi!" said Susan cheerfully. "I'm Susan Bones. Can we sit here?"

"Sure," said one of the girls. She was quite pretty, Alex noticed, with white-blonde hair and a pointy nose. Very pretty, actually. _I wonder if she's a metamorphmagus too_, she thought. "I'll just move my trunk. I'm Daphne Greengrass, by the way, and this is Sophie."

"Roper," added the second girl, a short brunette with a lot of freckles. _They all say their surnames_, Alex noticed, and she remembered Malfoy. "Sophie Roper. Hey, Neville, help Daphne, won't you?"

The somewhat pudgy boy jumped at being addressed, but nodded, and together he and Daphne managed to hoist the trunk up onto the rack.

"Thanks, Neville," Daphne said, but the boy just reddened.

_Boys_.

"I - I think I'll, er, look around the train," he mumbled, and he ran away before any of them could say another word. Sophie looked a bit disappointed.

"Here, let me help you with that," said Daphne, and she moved to lift Alex's trunk.

"Oh - thanks," Alex replied, moving Dumbledore's box onto the seat, and together they managed to get her trunk up. "I'm Alex," she said, hesitantly. "Alex Potter."

A moment of silence followed. Everyone was staring at her - except for Susan, who was grinning smugly.

"Seriously?" asked Sophie at last. "_The_ Alexandra Potter? Like, 'Alexandra Potter and the Ghastly Goblin'? And 'Alexandra Potter and the Horrible Hag'?"

Alex looked around, confused. "What?"

Sophie blushed.

"It's just... I didn't think you were, you know. Real."

_Did I just get accused of being a fictional character?_ _Everyone, clap your hands and say it together: "I believe in Alexandra Potter!"_

"Well... I am," she said at last, not exactly sure how to respond.

Daphne laughed.

"Of course she's real!" she said, sitting back down. "Honestly, Sophie. How do you think You-Know-Who died?"

"I suppose," said Sophie, who appeared to be thinking. "But did you really save the Prince of the Centaurs from an Acromantula with the sword of Gryffindor?"

Alex spent a few moments trying to decipher that sentence, before giving up.

"I'm pretty sure I didn't," she said, sitting down next to Susan. The conversation was getting pretty weird. "Hey, do you guys mind if I let Dumbledore out?" she said, gesturing at the cage.

All three girls' eyes widened and they turned to look at her cat in awe.

"What did you _do_ to him?" said Daphne, looking between Alex and Dumbledore with something like reverence.

Alex frowned, before remembering that their Headmaster was called Dumbledore.

"Oh!" she said, and she couldn't help but begin to laugh. They actually thought she'd Transfigured the real Dumbledore into a cat! From what she'd read in _A History of Magic_, Dumbledore was considered to be the most powerful wizard in the world. How could they actually believe an 11-year-old could do that to him?

"He's not actually _Dumbledore_," she managed to say, in between guffaws. "He's just a normal cat."

The girls looked stunned for a moment, before Susan burst out laughing - the others following immediately. Hearing them set Alex off again, and soon enough the four of them were stuck in a seemingly endless cycle of giggling - as soon as it looked like they'd stop, they'd share a look, and start anew.

"My. Tummy. Hurts," said Sophie, wiping a tear from her eye.

"Mine too," said Susan, still grinning from ear to ear. "I can't believe you actually called your cat _Dumbledore_."

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," said Alex. "So, can I let him out?"

The girls all nodded, and Alex flicked the lock on the cage door. Dumbledore shot out immediately, and was out of the door before Alex could say anything.

"Oh!" Susan said, looking disappointed. "I wanted to hold him."

"He'll be back," said Alex. If he didn't return, she could always call him.

Susan was about to reply, but was interrupted by the sound of a shrill whistle.

"We're leaving!" said Sophie, standing up to look out the window.

"At last!" added Daphne, moving to join Sophie.

The train jolted, then began to move. As they crept out of the station, Susan, Daphne and Sophie stood waving by the window, saying goodbye to their families.

Alex stayed sitting. She had no one to wave to.

She wouldn't cry.

Susan was the first to return to her seat, looking slightly guilty when she noticed Alex sitting alone.

"What's your family like?" said Alex quickly, before things got all emotional.

"Well, it's not a very happy story," she said, "we normally don't talk about it."

"Oh," said Alex. She'd just assumed that they all had perfect lives. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay," said Susan. "Auntie Amelia says I should be proud of my family. But Dad doesn't like thinking about it. My Mum was killed, you see. By You-Know-Who's followers, when I was very young. I can't really remember much about her."

For just a moment, Alex felt happy: Susan understood. But then she felt horrible. _What a terrible thing to think! - being glad that Susan's Mum was dead._

"Hang on," said Daphne, joining in. "Amelia Bones - I've heard of her. Isn't she really important?"

Susan seemed to sit straighter at that.

"Oh, yes," she said, almost glowing with pride, "she's the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"You mean the pol - I mean, the Aurors?" said Alex, curious. The Aurors were mentioned throughout _A History of Magic_. It sounded like an exciting job - if dangerous.

"Well, kind of," said Susan, thinking. "But that's more the Auror Office. The DMLE is more legal stuff, I think. Like, the Aurors catch them, then Auntie Amelia sends them to prison. Anyway, it's just us, really: me, Dad, and Auntie Amelia. Uncle Edgar and his family were killed by You-Know-Who himself."

Not just "killed by You-Know-Who", Alex noticed. By You-Know-Who _himself_. Susan almost seemed proud of the fact - like it was something to boast about. She remembered the way McGonagall spoke of him: fearful, even after 11 years. What had the man been like, if merely being killed by him was a badge of honour?

"It's terrible," said Daphne, "attacking an old family like that. Father always says that You-Know-Who never really cared about family names. So many of the old families were destroyed by the war."

_A History of Magic_ ended after the Grindelwald trials, so Alex knew almost nothing about Voldemort's war. It was yet another gap in her knowledge which she intended to remedy when she arrived at Hogwarts.

"What about you, Alex?" said Sophie. "I mean, I know about... you know. But where have you been all this time?"

"With my Aunt and Uncle," said Alex carefully, not wanting to say too much.

Daphne looked surprised. "I didn't know James Potter had any brothers or sisters."

"Oh, no. My mother's sister, not my dad's," said Alex.

Daphne frowned.

"But that would mean you lived with Muggles!"

Sophie gasped.

"You came on your own," said Susan, apparently thinking out loud. "Muggles can't get through the barrier. You came through on your own."

"What're they like?" asked Sophie. Alex shifted uncomfortably. She didn't like the way Daphne was looking at her.

"Well, okay I guess. I mean, Vernon is always angry about something, but he's harmless really, and Petunia-"

"Not them!" said Sophie, "Muggles! What're they like?"

Alex was stunned. Had Sophie never met a Muggle before?

"Er..." she began, not knowing where to even begin.

"Like wizards, I suppose," said Daphne, with a strange glint in her eye, "only without magic."

Sophie looked at Daphne in surprise, but Alex ignored it.

"Well, yeah," said Alex, thinking. Was that right? Were wizards just Muggles with magic? Or was there something more? But they never got to discuss the topic.

Daphne stopped smiling.

"A pity," she said, looking at Alex coldly. "Come on, Sophie. I remember seeing Mandy a few carriages down."

"What?" said Alex, but Daphne didn't answer. Sophie gave Alex a small smile - meant to be encouraging, perhaps - before Daphne dragged her out of the compartment, shutting the door firmly as she left.

Alex, hurt, looked at Susan in confusion. She'd liked Daphne. She thought they were going to be friends. What had made her so angry?

"What just happened?" asked Alex.

Susan looked distinctly uncomfortable. "It's complicated," she said to her lap. "And the fact that you even have to ask is, I guess, part of it. Lots of the old families really don't like Muggles, or Muggleborns."

"Muggleborn being someone with Muggle parents?" asked Alex.

"Right. Daphne, Sophie, and, well, me... we're what's called Purebloods: people with magical parents and grandparents and so on. People with Muggle parents are Muggleborns. And people who are a combination of both - with both magical and Muggle ancestors - are Half Bloods."

Alex frowned.

"Is there any difference?" she asked, concerned. It sounded like she was a Half Blood. It made her sound _inferior._ "I mean, are Purebloods more powerful, or something?"

"Well, no, not really. I don't think so, at least. I mean, Purebloods tend to be better at magic... but there are plenty of powerful Muggleborns."

It was a political thing, then, Alex thought with relief. That suited Alex fine - magic was what was really important. She'd show them exactly what a Half Blood could do.

"So what made Daphne angry? I'm not a Muggleborn," said Alex, still a bit confused.

"Not in blood," said Susan, and there was a reproving tone to her voice. "But... well, honestly? You act like one. Saying Muggles are just wizards without magic: that's something Muggleborns are famous for thinking, when they arrive. When you said you were raised by Muggles, I bet Daphne asked you it deliberately, to see what you'd say."

Alex opened her mouth to reply, but closed it again before she'd say something she regretted. Speaking too quickly was what had sent Daphne off - she didn't want to offend Susan too. Daphne's scheming surprised her - she hadn't given Alex time to think. _That sneaky bitch! She set me up! _The moment she'd heard that Alex was raised by Muggles, she'd assumed the worst - and Alex had said exactly what Daphne wanted.

Alex quickly decided that friends like Daphne weren't worth having. She refused to get upset about it - clearly they'd never have got on, if Daphne was such a bitch. If it wasn't this, it would've been something else. An important issue remained, though.

"So, what _is_ the difference between wizards and Muggles, other than magic?" she asked, curious. "I know wizards live longer, but..."

"That's 'cause of magic, too," said Susan. "Most of the physical differences like that are really magic, I think. Dad says that the real difference between wizards and Muggles is our society. The way we think, stuff like that."

Alex remembered undressing in Madam Malkin's in front of Malfoy. It was different, sure, but it wasn't _that_ different. It sounded like Susan was exaggerating - what did she know about Muggles, anyway? If she was like Sophie, she probably hadn't ever met one.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to wait before deciding. Maybe there really was some big difference she hadn't seen yet.

"So what house do you think you'll be in?" asked Susan - an obvious attempt at changing the subject. The Houses of Hogwarts - Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff - were pretty big deals, as far as Alex could tell from _A History of Magic_. Whenever a famous historical figure was introduced, their House was mentioned: Dumbledore was a Gryffindor, Harold Porter had been a Ravenclaw, Brandon Swann a Slytherin.

"I don't know," Alex said. She really had no idea - she didn't even know how it was decided. "I don't know much about the system - only the names, really."

"Oh, it's quite simple!" said Susan, and then she was off, describing each of the Houses. She started with her favourite, Hufflepuff - the house of loyalty and hard work. _Maybe I'll be a Ravenclaw_, Alex thought when she heard the description. _Or a Slytherin_.

They continued to talk about the Houses - taking guesses at how they would be decided - until they were interrupted by a knock on the door. It was the boy from Madam Malkin's - Malfoy. Susan beckoned him in.

"Hi!" said Susan, standing up as he came in. And then she _curtsied_. An actual _curtsey_. A proper one too, not just a little bob. Alex stood up, but she sure as hell wasn't going to curtsey to some kid.

Malfoy smiled.

"Draco Malfoy," he said, greeting Alex first, and he leaned over to her. She kissed the air next to him, and felt his lips brush her cheek - more than was necessary, she thought.

"Alexandra Potter," she replied, not exactly sure why she suddenly chose to use her full name. They were all acting so _formal_, she guessed it just felt right.

"I remember," he said, turning to Susan and offering her a kiss too. "You should have told me who you were," he continued, apparently not really upset she hadn't. "You made quite the fool of me, I'd say."

Despite herself, Alex blushed. She hadn't meant any such thing, but Malfoy seemed to almost enjoy that she had.

"So what brings you to our compartment?" asked Susan, sitting back down. Alex joined her, and Malfoy took the seat opposite, lounging with an arm along the top of the seat - taking up as much space as possible.

"Oh, you know, just doing the rounds," he said airily, then looked sharply towards Alex. "I just had the _most_ interesting chat with Daphne."

Alex's temper flared - what rumours was Daphne spreading about her?

"Whatever she said, it was a lie," Alex said, feeling her face burning against her will.

"Good," said Malfoy, "it would be a disaster, if the Girl Who Lived was a Muggle lover." He paused to examine his nails. "I suppose you _do_ agree? That Muggles and Muggleborns are inferior?"

Alex knew what he wanted her to say. What she should say, if she wanted to fit in. That Muggles were inferior to wizards, and Muggleborns less than Purebloods. But she couldn't. Her mother had been a Muggleborn - something that Malfoy seemed willing to pretend wasn't so. She wouldn't betray her parents like that.

"Well," she began, trying to be diplomatic, "Muggles don't have magic, of course, so being a Muggle is definitely worse than being a witch."

Malfoy let out a long-suffering sigh. _Drama queen_.

"I see I have work to do," he said, standing up. "I'm not willing to give up on you, Alexandra." He gave her a pitying look, as if he was doing her a huge favour. Alex felt another twinge of anger. No one looked down at her like that. No one. "Give me a week or two. I've got some things to show you. Books and stuff. The Muggleborn Mystery, and so on. I'll have my father mail them to me."

He moved to leave. "Susan," he said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek, and then one for Alex too. "I'll talk to you soon, Alexandra."

As soon as he was gone, Alex let out a long breath.

"God, everything is such a mess _already_," she said. Perhaps this was one of the differences Susan was hinting at - the way people behaved. She'd never had to deal with any of this sort of stuff in the Muggle world. And Malfoy - he wasn't at all like he'd been at Madam Malkin's. He was so... _serious_. "Is Malfoy a bit, well..."

"Weird?" completed Susan, smiling. "Yeah. I've met him a few times before. He's always trying to act so grown-up, like he's years older than us."

"How come you curtsied?" Alex asked. She'd never seen anyone curtsey except on TV.

"His father's an Earl, you know. The Earl of Salisbury."

"Oh," said Alex. It wasn't really a wizard thing, then. Though she wasn't sure if people still curtsied to Earls in the Muggle world - it's not like you came across an Earl every day. "Should I curtsey too, next time?"

"You only really do it the first time you see someone, I think," said Susan. "I mean, obviously I've met Malfoy before, but this was the first time in a while, so... I guess the rules are complicated. But now you've been introduced, you don't have to. And anyway, you only curtsey to your superiors."

The implication was that Alex wouldn't need to curtsey. But that would mean... she was his equal.

"What're you saying?" Alex said, almost holding her breath.

Susan looked surprised.

"But surely you must know?" she said, absolutely stunned.

"Know _what_?"

"When King Edward executed the last of the Peverells in the Welsh rebellion, the Earldom of Shrewsbury passed to Alfred Potter... and has remained unbroken ever since."

Alex gaped. She was a... what was the female form of an Earl, anyway? _Wait 'til I tell Vernon_, she thought, grinning. He'd probably have a heart attack. She could see it now: _"People like you? An Earl? This country is going to the dogs!"_. _I wonder if I can make Dudley bow to me?_

"How do you know all this?" she asked, still thinking about her new status. It was unnerving that Susan knew more about her family than she did.

"School, of course!" Susan said. "We learnt all about the old families."

Alex hadn't even known there were wizarding primary schools, but she supposed it made sense. What would magical children do all the time, if they weren't at school?

"So... I'm a what? An Earl-ess?"

Susan giggled. "An ear-less!" she said, laughing. Alex laughed too, realising that Susan could be quite clever. She would never have thought of a joke like that.

"Anyway," said Susan, "you're a Countess, not an Ear-less. Only, it's really just a courtesy title until you properly inherit the dignity at seventeen. Really, don't you learn this at Muggle school?"

"Not really," said Alex. _Countess Potter. I like the sound of that_. "We did some stuff on Kings and Queens, but history is more stuff like the Romans and Greeks and Egyptians and stuff like that."

"Oh, well, I guess that's interesting too," said Susan, sounding mollified.

"Could you tell me more?" said Alex. If she was meant to be a Countess, she should know what it meant.

Susan scrunched up her nose.

"History was never my best subject, you know. Someone like Malfoy or Daphne would be better," - Alex pulled a face - "but I guess I can see what I can remember."

What followed was a long conversation about everything _A History of Magic_ considered "impure history": about how wizards once lived right alongside Muggles and mixed with them freely. Of those wizards, some were favoured by the King of the day, and, like Muggles, were gifted with titles and land.

All noble titles held by wizards were from before the Statute of Secrecy, Alex learned, and there would be no more: when the Statute of Secrecy came into effect, King William III had been Obliviated of knowledge of the magical world, and had forgotten all about the dignities held by wizards. On a few occasions since, they had even been recreated and given to Muggles - the Malfoys' Earldom included. The Ministry of Magic had responded by passing a law establishing the idea of dual dignity, where it was possible for a wizard and a Muggle to separately hold the same title.

"So what are the Bones'?" asked Alex. She remembered Daphne talking about how the Bones family was an old family, which she guessed meant noble in some way.

"Oh, we don't have a title!" she said, a bit too quickly. _Oops_. Something to be a bit more careful with in future, Alex thought. "Not many do, really, even within the old families."

Someone knocked on the door. It was an older boy with long, sandy-blonde hair. He looked very tall to Alex, and he had a shiny badge clipped to his robes.

"We're approaching Hogsmede," he said, just poking his head around the door. "You should change into your school robes soon."

And then he left, moving down to the next compartment, presumably to give the same information.

Susan stood up on the seat and opened her trunk, reaching for her robes. Alex did the same, with a bit more trouble, as she hadn't thought she'd need to access her clothes on the train. It looked like Susan had known, as she'd packed them right at the top.

With the casualness displayed at Madam Malkin's, Susan began to change, not even bothering with the privacy screen. Alex shrugged and joined in - it wasn't as if she was taking her underwear off or anything.

When she was changed, Alex replaced her Muggle clothes in her trunk, and pulled out her wand. At last, she'd be able to carry it! She found the loop on the inside of her robe easily, and slipped the wand through it, the loop catching the handle.

They had barely finished dressing when the train began to slow, pulling into a small station. It wasn't even a station, Alex thought as she looked out the window. It was just a platform in the middle of nowhere.

The sun was beginning to set as they exited the train, leaving their stuff behind. The cool air was refreshing after so long inside, and for a moment Alex just enjoyed it - the Dursleys rarely went to the country. She'd never been this far from home.

"Firs' years, this way!" someone shouted, and they walked towards it to find the biggest man Alex had ever seen. He was easily eight feet tall and wider than Vernon by far.

He nodded to himself as a crowd of first years began to gather around him - many looking up at him with something like fear. Alex looked back to see the older years walking down a cobbled path and getting into carriages without horses. Apparently first years had some other means of getting to the school.

"Alrigh', looks like every'uns 'ere," the huge man said, holding up a lantern. "Follow me."

They walked off into the trees, the hush of excited whispering filling the air. There was a strange atmosphere to the place, and Alex found herself whispering too.

"Is he human?" she asked Susan. She hadn't known people could get that big.

"No clue," Susan replied, copying her whisper. "He's unnaturally big, that's for sure. But I've never seen anyone like it."

They emerged from the trees to a rocky and muddy shore, a small cove on what looked like a truly massive lake. A line of small boats were bobbing on the water, within reach of the edge of the water.

"Come on then, four to a boat!" the man said, getting into one all to himself. He looked ridiculous in it, hunched with his knees up, but Alex quickly moved to follow, trying not to get too wet. Susan followed her, and they got into a boat with two other girls.

The big man raised a pink umbrella.

"_Forward!_" he shouted, and the boats began moving of their own accord, sailing out into deeper water. It was when they turned out of the cove that Alex got her first sight of Hogwarts.

She gasped along with all the others, looking up at the glittering lights. It was _magnificent_. A huge, pristine castle stood atop a large outcrop to their right, an eclectic mix of towers, ramparts and keeps. Facing them was a long, tall hall with huge arched windows, glowing from within with warm light.

Their boats headed towards the castle, and Alex craned her neck to keep looking at it as they got closer - it was quite high up. They eventually passed through a arch carved into the rock into a small indoor dock. Little jetties lined the stone shore, and a flight of steps led to a large wooden door. They got out of the boats and followed their guide up the stairs, where he knocked on the door with his massive fist.

_Boom. Boom. Boom._

The door opened to reveal Professor McGonagall.

"Thank you, Hagrid," she said, not unkindly. "I'll take them from here. Follow me, everyone."

McGonagall led them into the castle, where their long ascent began. Alex tried not to be too obvious about gaping at everything, but it was hard. The castle was obviously magical. The large, airy halls were full of moving portraits, and sometimes she could see a staircase moving of its own accord. McGonagall spoke to them as they walked.

"In just a moment, you will be sorted into a Hogwarts House: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff. Your House will be a family to you while you are here, and it is expected that you will do your utmost to further the prestige and success of your House."

They passed into a long corridor and walked its full length before turning a corner, passing through a door into a large antechamber. Here McGonagall stopped in front of another door, and turned to face them.

"Every House," she continued, "has a long and rich history, and our sorting process is quite rigorous - people are rarely disappointed with their sorting. I must impress upon you, however: there are no resortings. To ask for one is not just pointless, it is also a great insult to your House. If you find yourself dissatisfied, give it time. I'm sure you will learn to love your House, soon enough."

And with that she opened the door and beckoned them through. They were led into a large hall, cathedral-like, lit by hundreds of floating candles. A large semicircular table was to their right, at which the teachers sat, with the centre seat occupied by an old man with a long white beard. _Dumbledore_, Alex thought. The rest of the student body was to her left, sitting at four long tables, each of which ran the length of the hall.

"The first years, Professor Dumbledore," said McGonagall, stopping to stand next to a stool with a hat on. Whatever it was, it was centre stage.

"Then let the sorting begin!" Dumbledore replied, his voice carrying a strength which belied his apparent age.

All eyes turned to the hat. _This is nothing like any of our guesses_, Alex thought. What on earth was a hat going to do?

As if hearing her question, the hat opened along the brim like a mouth, and began to sing.

_A thousand years or more ago,_

_Four friends did meet in this chateau._

_The greatest of the age, they were,_

_To no others did they defer._

_They sought to make a magic school,_

_For tired were they of inept rule._

_The best and brightest, they called forth,_

_For their knowledge, all travelled North._

_From the start, the four selected_

_those who they themselves reflected._

_They left behind their fam'ly name,_

_While here, they shared a Founder's fame._

_Gryffindor was a mighty man,_

_he prefered those who never ran._

_Slytherin, now, he valued wiles:_

_the right plan can take you miles._

_Ravenclaw loved to learn new things._

_To knowledge, a Ravenclaw clings._

_For Hufflepuff, maligned but true,_

_Betrayal was the most taboo._

_So put me on, I'll tell you where_

_you belong, what colours to bare._

The hall erupted into applause and the hat bent over several times, as if bowing. Eventually, McGonagall raised her hand and the clapping stopped.

"When I call your name," she said, turning to the first years, "come forward and place the hat on your head." She flicked her wand and a long sheaf of parchment appeared from nowhere. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A slightly plump blonde haired girl stepped forward and was promptly sorted into Hufflepuff, which applauded wildly for her. The moment she took the hat off, Alex saw that her robes had taken on the colours of her House. With a little prompting from McGonagall, Hannah rushed over to her new House table, where a new place popped into existence.

"Bones, Susan!" called McGonagall, and Alex gave her a smile.

Susan took a bit longer than Hannah, but it wasn't long before the hat shouted "Hufflepuff!" and Susan was rushing over to join Hannah, a grin on her face.

And so it went. Some people were very quick, some were much longer, but Alex knew none of them and watched only with detached interest. But then, after a girl called Hermione took _forever_, a name she recognised was called.

"Greengrass, Daphne!"

Alex tried to glare holes into the girl's back as she went to be sorted, but she had yet to manifest laser eyes, so she satisfied herself with hoping the hat would tell Daphne to go home. But it was not to be.

"Slytherin!" shouted the hat, and Daphne went to join the students wearing green and silver.

A few more students went through, before McGonagall paused, apparently surprised by something. But she recovered almost immediately.

"Lestrange, Astrid!" she called, and whispering erupted over the hall. A pretty girl with long black hair and pale skin walked out from the dwindling crowd of unsorted. She held her chin high, and appeared to not care at all about the whispers.

She put the hat on, and they waited. And waited. At last -

"Ravenclaw!" shouted the hat, and Lestrange joined her new house to muted applause.

_I wonder what that was all about?_

"Malfoy, Draco," joined the Slytherins before the hat had even touched his head, and soon it was Alex's turn.

"Potter, Alexandra!" McGonagall called, and whispers filled the hall, even louder than for Lestrange. People were pointing. A camera flashed, and then the hat was on her head. It was so large it covered her eyes, but she could still hear the murmuring hall beyond.

"_Hmm... interesting,"_ a voice said, whispering right by her right ear. "_Very interesting. Talent the likes of which I see rarely. My goodness, yes. And a certain thirst for knowledge to match it. A healthy natural curiosity. And ambition in spades. A desire to prove yourself, and be seen doing so. Oh, you'd do well in any house... so where shall we put you?_"

Alex wasn't sure if she was meant to reply, so kept quiet. After all, she had no particular preference.

"_Slytherin, perhaps?" _the hat continued. She thought of Daphne and suddenly felt angry once more. She was spreading rumours about her, Alex knew it.

"_Hmm... not healthy, that. There's another side to you, Miss. Potter. I see it all here. You're capable of great things... but you must learn the value of people. You rely too much on yourself, I think."_ Alex's thoughts returned to Anna. "_Exactly, Miss. Potter. Magic isn't everything, you know. You'll learn that in HUFFLEPUFF!"_


	7. Hogwarts 101

**Alexandra Potter**

By Taure

_Chapter Seven: Hogwarts 101_

"_HUFFLEPUFF!"_

The moment the hat shouted the word, McGonagall whipped the hat off Alex's head. For a moment, the hall was silent, staring at her incredulously. And then Hufflepuff _exploded_. The whole table was on its feet, jumping up and down, cheering and clapping as she walked over, distinctly aware that every eye in the hall was on her. The first years were at the end of the table, so she had to walk past the older years to get to her place.

"Great to have you, Potter!" said the prefect from the train, inclining his head to her as he clapped.

"Welcome to Hufflepuff!" added a handsome boy a few years her senior, and he clapped her on the back enthusiastically. She stumbled, but recovered quickly.

"I don't believe it!" said Susan. She was clapping with the rest of them, grinning widely. "I hoped, but I never thought... but here you are!"

Alex smiled back, happy to be in the same house as Susan. _I don't know what the hat was talking about_, she thought. _I have friends. It's not wrong to like magic too_.

"Settle down, now," called McGonagall, and the Hufflepuffs rapidly returned to their seats.

"Budge up!" hissed Susan to the boy next to her, and everyone shuffled down the bench, making space for Alex. As soon as she sat down, a set of cutlery, a plate and a goblet popped into existence in front of her.

_Cool._

The rest of the Sorting went along quickly. Sophie Roper went to Ravenclaw, right before Hufflepuff received their last member. Finally they reached the end of the alphabet. Blaise Zabini went to Slytherin and Dumbledore stood. He was a tall man, and was wearing purple robes unlike any Alex had seen at Madam Malkin's. Colour aside, they were almost like the robes of a priest - they even included a long stole with a golden trim.

"To students both new and old: welcome to Hogwarts!" he began, speaking with the deliberation of an experienced public speaker. "Before we are all befuddled by the feast, I have a number of announcements to make." He allowed a moment for the students to groan in good-natured complaint - Gryffindor was particularly strong in their objection.

"Yes, yes, I shall endeavour to be as concise as possible. Now, firstly, as you know, our esteemed Potions Master, Professor Slughorn, retired from teaching at the end of last year. It is now my great pleasure to announce the promotion of Assistant Professor Snape to the position of Professor, and Hogwarts' Potions Master. He also inherits Professor Slughorn's position as Head of Slytherin House."

Dumbledore began to clap and the students quickly followed. A rather ugly man with a hooked nose and greasy hair stood up to receive the applause, which Alex noticed was rather subdued - except at the Slytherin table, who were cheering enthusiastically. Professor Snape himself seemed indifferent to the whole affair.

"I'm sure Professor Snape shall be more than up to the challenge of filling Professor Slughorn's shoes," Dumbledore said as Snape sat back down. "Now, older students will remember that our own Professor Flitwick spent last year teaching at the prestigious Durmstrang Institute of Magic, as part of a teacher exchange. Professor Flitwick has now returned and will resume the position of Charms Master. Let us congratulate Professor Winters on her most able management of Charms while Professor Flitwick was away."

Another round of applause followed, and an attractive woman stood up. She was young, with shoulder length blonde hair and a generous amount of chest. Professor Winter's applause was much more enthusiastic than Snape's; a number of cat calls could even be heard coming from Gryffindor. Dumbledore held up his hand for silence.

"It is now Hogwarts' turn to host a teacher from Durmstrang. Please join me in giving a most enthusiastic welcome to Master Veigel, who shall be joining our Defence Against the Dark Arts faculty." Alex clapped with the others, straining her neck to see the surly foreigner. He was an older man, with a few grey hairs - Alex had no idea how old that actually made him. Eighty, at least.

"Master Veigel has a deep knowledge of the Dark Arts, for which - as many of you will know - Durmstrang has a fearsome reputation. I'm sure both Hogwarts' students and staff will benefit from his expertise."

Dumbledore paused, looking over the students seriously, before smiling widely. Alex thought it was a good smile.

"Hogwarts has the reputation of being the finest school of magic in the world. Such a reputation is only maintained through attracting the best possible teachers, and Hogwarts has always prided itself on the talent of our Professors. However, there is always room for improvement."

He picked up a piece of parchment and began to read.

"Adalbert Waffling is one of the most celebrated philosophers of our age. He has contributed to significant advances in the areas of ethics, paraphysics, and theory of mind. He pioneered a revolutionary method for the study of interjective facts, and his theory of Internalisation is widely accepted. He has published over fifteen books, seventy articles, and in 1962 was awarded the Order of Merlin, Second Class, for his contributions to philosophy. Witches and wizards, please put your hands together for our new Philosophy Master: Professor Adalbert Waffling."

An old man - at least as old as Dumbledore - rose, and the teachers stood to greet him, giving him a standing ovation. The students quickly followed, clambering to stand for the man who wrote their textbook. Professor Waffling gave a short bow in recognition.

"Wonderful," said Dumbledore. "I look forward to hearing all about Professor Waffling's lessons. And now, lest we face a revolution from our hungry Gryffindors, let us eat! I have only four more words to say: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

Everyone laughed, and suddenly the tables were covered with food. Alex stared: it looked like there was something of _everything_. There were meats of every kind - roasted, grilled, even barbecued - and enough vegetables to feed an army. But that was just the start: there were stews, a giant shepherd's pie, pastries of many kinds. And sitting right in front of Alex was a beef wellington.

"Potatoes, Alexandra?" said Susan, and she passed a platter of perfectly crisp roast potatoes over before Alex could even answer.

As roast potatoes were one of Alex's favourites, this was no great problem. She piled them up on her plate, before passing them on to the boy to her right.

"You want some wellington?" she asked back, already cutting herself some.

"Nah," said Susan, "I prefer chicken."

Eventually Alex's plate was full almost to bursting and she dug in. As she did, everyone started introducing themselves.

"Tiberius Slowe," said a scruffy haired boy, his plate even larger than Alex's. "Of course, I know who you are," he said, waving his fork at Alex, "but who're the rest of you?"

_Well, at least I'll never have to introduce myself_, Alex thought.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley," said the boy next to Alex. He was quite short - shorter than she was - and the moment Alex heard his voice, she knew he was posh.

"Finch-Fletchley," repeated Slowe, thinking. "Never heard that name before."

"Obviously he's Muggleborn," said another boy, opposite Alex. He had rather large ears, Alex noticed. The way they stuck out made him look rather gormless. "Not that there's anything wrong with that," he added quickly, glancing around.

"Course not," said Slowe, and, as if to demonstrate his commitment to equality, he offered Justin a boat of gravy.

"I'm Wayne Hopkins, by the way," added the big eared boy. He seemed to be talking directly at Alex.

"This is Susan," Alex said, feeling like she had to say something, but knowing that they all already knew her name. She remembered just in time: "Susan Bones."

"We've met," said Slowe, swigging down some pink strawberry fizz. "Do you remember? Last year at -"

"McLaggen's Christmas Do," completed Susan, smiling. "Do you remember how drunk Mrs Framling was?"

"Oh god!" said Slowe, laughing lightly. "That little dog she takes everywhere! She was feeding it Elf-made wine!"

A couple of people laughed, but Alex didn't get it. She guessed Elf-made wine was special somehow. She was about to quietly ask Susan when another boy spoke up.

"Hey, look!" he said, pointing towards his plate. Everyone looked over: he'd arranged a sausage and mashed potato to look like a cock and balls. Alex rolled her eyes at Susan; Slowe snorted but said nothing.

"Oh, grow-up, Kevin," said a girl opposite him. She was a tiny girl - she made Alex think of a pixie. "We're at Hogwarts now, not Wimbledon."

Kevin blushed red and took a mouthful of potato.

"Please excuse Kevin," said the girl, giving him a withering glare. "I'm Lily Moon by the way."

"Do you _all_ know each other?" asked Alex, beginning to feel left out. Everyone was friends already, making jokes about things she'd never even heard of.

"Not everyone," said Wayne. "But I went to Madam Poppins' Prep with Tiberius, Ernie and Hannah."

"And me and Kevin went to Wimbledon Primary together," Lily said.

"Kevin and I," Kevin corrected, a smug look on his face.

"Oh, shut it, Mugglefucker," Lily returned.

A blonde haired girl gasped. "You swore!" she said, putting her fork down. _Judging by her weight, it's something she should do more often_.

"She does that," said Kevin.

"Zounds, bastard, son of a whore," Lily reeled off, and the boys looked at her in awe. "Rhia, hagspit, crown."

The blonde's mouth was hanging open - and she wasn't the only one. Susan was staring at Lily in shock.

"What's the worst word you know, Hannah?" said Lily. Alex shifted uncomfortably. Things were getting nasty.

The blonde girl - Hannah - went red and looked down at her plate.

"Come on, tell us!"

Hannah shook her head and went back to eating.

"Can you say 'fuck', Hannah? Come on - do it!"

Hannah shook her head again, and Alex watched as Lily's chant was taken up by Wayne and Tiberius.

"Say it, say it, say it, say it!"

"I won't!" shouted Hannah, breaking at last, and they laughed. Alex shared an uncomfortable look with Susan, who shrugged.

Alex didn't speak much for the rest of dinner, preferring to listen. She didn't want to attract any attention as she had with Daphne - who knew how people like Lily would react to her Muggle past?

Eventually the feast wound down and people began to leave in small groups. The prefect from the train came over to their part of the table.

"Everyone full?" he asked. He was answered by a series of satisfied groans. "Don't expect food like this every day, now!" he warned, "though the food is pretty good anyway. All right then, if you're all done, follow me!"

He led them from the hall through the main doors - a great archway the size of a small house - and they passed into the cooler air of the castle beyond.

"I'm Peter Hadley, by the way," he said as they took a corridor from the entrance hall, "I'm one of the Hufflepuff prefects. If you need anything in these first few weeks, just ask. Try to remember where we're going now - this is the way to the common room, and it's a secret - don't tell anyone from the other Houses."

The way was complicated but Alex thought she could remember it. They were in a lower part of the castle: there were fewer airy stairwells and landings here, and the corridors were smaller and less ornate.

"Here we are," said Peter, stopping next to a large painting of a bowl of fruit. "The way in is pretty simple, which is why it's so important to keep it a secret. To get in, all you have to do is stroke the largest banana. Like this!"

He held out a finger and stroked the banana, and with a _click_ the painting swung outwards, as if on hinges.

The common room beyond was much smaller than Alex expected. It was tiny, in fact: there wasn't even enough room in there for the first years, never mind all of Hufflepuff. There were a few small tables with armchairs around them, and a number of hat stands to hang clothes on. _At least there are biscuits on the tables_.

"Hufflepuff House is like a ring," said Peter, once they had all packed in. He waved his wand and, as he spoke, thin lines of fire appeared in the air, drawing a diagram. "In the centre of the ring, you have the stairwell, leading to the dorms. And around the stairwell you've got a ring of nine rooms. Each one has a door to the stairs, and connects to the rooms either side, you see?"

Alex did. It was like a flower. She supposed it made sense: a single room for everyone would be too big. This was much more personal.

"This room here's the Welcome Room," Peter continued, gesturing at the room around them. "Not many people hang around in here, normally. Too many people going in and out. Come on, I'll show you the others."

He opened the door on the right and they squeezed through into a larger room. It was basically a sitting room: there was a large, roaring fire, and many squidgy-looking arm chairs arranged around coffee tables. There were much larger tables in each corner of the room - the kind you could play board games around.

"This is the Winter room," said Peter, "since in summer it's too warm and a bit dark." Alex noticed there weren't any windows: just portraits and curtains. "Still, for the next few months this'll probably be the most popular room. There's nothing like an open fire on a cold night. Okay, next one."

They went through the door opposite - the door to the left would take them to the stairs, Alex guessed - and passed into a large, airy room with wooden floors and paneled walls. There wasn't much in the way of furniture - just some chairs stacked up against the walls - but there was a small stage at the end.

"We call this the Big Room," said Peter. "I think you can see why." He received a few titters for his joke. "If there's ever a party - after a Quidditch match, for example - then it'll be in here. And Hufflepuff's Drama Club puts on a play most terms too."

"Drama club?" asked Lily.

"Oh, that's right, I forgot," said Peter. "The House notice board is in the welcome room. All the information for clubs and so on goes on there. Okay, next room - I still have to get you to your dorms, after this."

The door to the next room was rather large - enough for two people at a time - and Alex gasped with the others when she saw why. It wasn't a room at all - it was outside! It was like a large, rocky ledge on the side of the castle: the starry sky was above them, and a metal railing by the edge was the only protection against falling hundreds of feet into the lake, which stretched into the distance far beneath them.

"This is the stone garden," Peter continued, and indeed there wasn't any grass. Stone picnic tables were carved out of the rock, and the whole patio was lit by torches. The far wall was stone too, and there was a tunnel opposite them - leading to the next room, Alex guessed.

"What if we fall?" asked Hannah, who was eyeing the metal railing nervously. _Thank god someone asked_, thought Alex - she'd been thinking the same thing.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," said Peter casually. "Imperturbable Charm on the railing. No one's ever fallen."

Alex moved to look out over the edge - the lake really was very beautiful - and Susan followed her.

"This is... just, wow," said Alex. _Did every House have something like this?_

"Yeah," agreed Susan.

"Come on, now!" interrupted Peter. "You'll have plenty of time to explore later. The next room's my favourite."

They followed him into the tunnel - more like a cave, really - and very soon they could hear the sound of water. _Roaring_ water. The air became damp, and then they turned a corner to see the tunnel blocked by a waterfall.

Peter grinned at them, and walked through the water. The first years hesitated.

"Fuck that," said Lily, staring at the water. "I'm not getting wet."

Alex laughed, giving Susan a grin before walking through. To her great surprise, she didn't get wet at all - though she certainly felt the cool of the water hitting her, it seemed to just lack _wetness_.

When Alex saw the room beyond, she knew exactly why it was Peter's favourite. It was hers too.

It was an underground cave, dark, lit only by a swarm of strange, tiny flying creatures, each no larger than a mosquito, each giving off a softly glowing light. She and Peter were standing on a stone walkway, which bisected a deep pool, into which the waterfall plunged. A little wooden bridge led from the middle of the walkway to the left, where it met a door in the wall - the stairwell.

"Wow," repeated Alex, looking around in amazement. She looked up, and couldn't see a ceiling - it was too dark. But the way the water echoed made it feel large.

Susan came through the waterfall and almost pushed her into the pool.

"Clear the way!" shouted Peter over the sound of the water, and they walked further along the walkway to make room for the others.

"Ohh, fairy lights!" said Lily, and Alex noticed that they seemed to drift towards her, like bees to a picnic.

"Well, what you see is what you get, so let's move on before someone falls in!" shouted Peter, and Alex followed him reluctantly. She would definitely return soon - with her swimming costume.

The next room was outside too: a walled garden, it was essentially just a small lawn of grass. A number of lamps hung off the walls, like the gas ones you'd take camping. Only three of the walls were stone. The third was glass, and you could see through it into the next room: a hot conservatory.

"Mind the Craptacular Cactus," advised Peter, pointing out one of the plants on the window sill.

"One prick is enough to make you wish you hadn't."

And then he led them from the greenhouse to the last room: a small study area, with desks and uncomfortable looking chairs, and a few bookcases on the walls. A tall girl with a manly face was waiting for them there: like Peter, she wore a Prefect's badge.

"Okay, that's the end of the tour," said Peter, "boys, come with me and I'll show you your dorms. Girls, you go with Helen."

Helen finally took them to the stairs: a carpeted, circular room with staircases going both up and down.

"Boys' dorms are down, girls' are up," she said, and she led them up the stairs. There were seven landings, each with three doors. First years were at the very top.

"This is your bathroom," Helen said, swinging open one of the doors. It was a long room with a ceramic floor. There were three doors marked _TOILET_ with bronze plaques, and opposite them a line of sinks and mirrors. A couple more doors were marked _BATHROOM_, and the end of the room was a shower area. It wasn't exactly open, with individual showers divided by a panel of frosted glass, but it wasn't private either.

"Okay, half of you in one dorm, half in the other," said Helen, and she pulled out a piece of paper. "Hannah, Susan, Megan, Lily, Alexandra, you're in this one."

Helen opened one of the doors and they walked in. Their trunks were already there, sitting at the feet of large, four poster beds. Dumbledore was there too, lounging on the bed closest the window. She ran over, intending to try the bed out in the most logical way: by jumping on it.

Susan was next to her, and they laughed as they jumped up and down - right up until Alex hit her head on the wooden beams overhead.

"Ow!" said Alex, rubbing her head, smiling in embarrassment at the laughing girls.

Helen returned a short time later to help them unpack their stuff. Each of them had a wardrobe and a bedside cabinet. Soon enough it was time for bed - the first years had to be in their dorms by nine, and lights out was at ten. As Alex lay in the most comfortable bed she'd ever felt, she couldn't help but think: life was good.

* * *

Alex's first week at Hogwarts went by in a rush of lessons and impromptu explorations. It was all too easy to get lost when trying to navigate the castle's rather confusing floor plan, and it didn't help that the place seemed to spontaneously rearrange itself. If the moving staircases weren't enough, whole sections of the castle seemed to disappear on certain days, only to reappear half a week later on the other side of the building. Still, it looked like the teachers had some measure of control over it, because Alex's classrooms were always in the same place.

She and Susan were quickly proving inseparable, and they were widely acknowledged as best friends. While Alex helped Susan with magic, Susan helped Alex to learn the ways of wizards and witches. The first time someone had bowed to her in the corridor between classes, she'd had no idea what to do.

"Lady Potter," an older boy had said, before bowing surprisingly deeply. Alex froze.

"Give him your hand," whispered Susan out of the corner of her mouth. Alex did so, and the boy brushed his lips near her ring finger.

"Robert Giles, of Telford," he said, "at your service."

And with that he was gone.

After that, Alex had looked the boy up, and found that he was the heir to the Baron of Telford, who officially owed her fealty. Susan told her with glee that if she ever needed to duel, she could call upon either the Baron or Robert to do so on her behalf. It was all a bit strange, but from that day on, Alex was ready for those rare occasions when someone might recognise her rank. For the most part, the Slytherins ignored her, and the Hufflepuffs didn't seem to care about anything like that, but the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws occasionally surprised her.

Strange meetings in the corridors aside, Alex was primarily concerned with learning magic. Her lessons were all fascinating, expanding upon what she'd read in her books, and the library was _huge_. Knowing how expensive books were, the library had to be worth millions of pounds. Most people seemed to read inside the library itself, but Alex prefered to take the books out, returning to Hufflepuff to read them in the stone garden.

If Susan ever wanted to find Alex, she knew exactly where to find her: with her nose stuck in a book. By the end of the week she'd already finished two: _Iron Will_ - a guide to the properties of iron and a variety of derivative metals, which helped her understand how to transfigure metals properly - and _Ball's Bestiary_, which was a guide to Dark creatures. Much more interesting than their Defence textbook.

Their first Defence lesson with Master Veigel had been a revelation.

"In!" he had commanded when he arrived at the classroom, and they entered into a room devoid of any decoration or warmth. They sat behind their desks in silence, something about Veigel's presence dissuading any notion of chatter. Some teachers had it, some didn't. Veigel, with his shaved head and pointy little beard, had it. He looked like some evil sorcerer from a Disney movie - only he was very real.

For several minutes he simply stood at the front of the class, staring at them as they fidgeted under his gaze. When he finally spoke, it was so sudden that many jumped.

"The Dark Arts," he barked, "is most powerful branch of magic. This is fact. Let no one to tell you otherwise. To defend yourself of them - and I have been said this is all I teach here - you must first understand."

Alex frowned. Their Professor couldn't even speak English properly? He opened the drawer of the desk and pulled out a copy of _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_.

"How many read this?"

Looking around with hesitation, Alex raised her hand, one of only two who did - a bushy haired girl from Gryffindor was the other.

"Good. Is s_chwachsinn_. You two, forget all of this book."

Alex had thought the book was crap already, so this was no problem for her. The other girl, however, looked scandalised.

"But, Professor..." she began.

"No Professor here," Veigel said firmly. "I am _Master_ Viegel. Now, girl, what is your name?"

"Hermione, sir," she said.

"Give me your book, Herm-nee," he said. Before she could answer, he flicked his wand and summoned it to him.

"Today, we learn Snapping spell," he said, addressing the whole class once more. "Example." He raised his wand with an exaggerated movement, before bringing it down like a hammer on Hermione's book. There was a cracking sound, and the book snapped roughly in two. Hermione gasped, but the rest of the class leaned forward. A real spell! In the first class!

"No one leave before all books are destroyed."

And no one did. None of them could cast the spell anywhere near like Veigel could - for most of them, it just bent the book along the spine, or tore a page out - but by the end of the lesson the classroom was covered in mangled books and torn paper.

Alex's favourite lesson had to be Transfiguration, which they had twice a week with Professor McGonagall herself. Alex realised that the material was pretty hard, compared to their other classes, but she just seemed to have a knack for it, above and beyond the ease with which she took to magic in general.

Still, despite her wide reading and natural talent, Professor McGonagall's advice proved invaluable.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will practice while at Hogwarts," she began, before turning her desk into a pig with a single tap. Alex's eyes widened at the casual display of advanced spellwork. McGonagall was formidable in more than just demeanor, it seemed. She turned the pig back into a desk with a flick - no, a reeling motion, Alex realised - and the class sat up eagerly. Alex exchanged an excited glance with Susan.

"With one slipped syllable, one lazy motion, you could seriously injure yourself, your peers, or cause undue pain to a living subject." As she spoke, she began to pace up and down between the rows of desks, making sure to meet all of their eyes. "As such, Transfiguration requires the utmost care and diligence. If I ever see anyone messing around with spells in my class - attempting to Transfigure your fellow students, for example - they will be punished _most severely_."

Human Transfiguration was an advanced topic, Alex knew, and they wouldn't be starting it for years. She dreaded to think what would happen if one of them tried it now, with so little training.

"Today will be a practical lesson, to give you a taste of the subject" said McGonagall, to the pleasure of all. Alex had noticed that even the Pureblood children loved the novelty of having their own wands. "I do not expect perfection - nor, indeed, success. You will not master the content of today's lesson until your second year. But you will learn much from the trying."

The lesson's task was to Transfigure a matchstick into an iron needle. McGonagall had spoken truly: it was an advanced task, from the latter half of _A Beginner's Guide_: the part which focused on the Transformation spell. Alex had focused almost entirely on the simpler Mutation spell over the summer. The Mutation spell just changed the shape of an object, whereas the Transformation spell also changed the material. The difficulty of such a feat was substantially higher.

It was a good thing Alex had read the book several times over, as they didn't go into much theory - McGonagall just described the bare minimum of the spell, though Alex noticed a couple of the Gryffindor boys beginning to doze off, even during that short explanation. And then they were off, and for a moment Alex just enjoyed watching the others.

Everyone had their own approach to spellcasting. Hermione Granger, rather than pick up her wand, had apparently decided to re-read half of the book. It looked like Seamus Finnegan - a likeable Irish boy from Gryffindor - thought that the way to Transfigure something was to beat it hard with your wand. Lily Moon was muttering under her breath without doing much else, and Ron Weasley was practically shouting the spell - mangling the words in the process.

Susan wasn't doing too badly, actually. A lot better than most of the class. That didn't mean much, but she was at least saying the words - _Lignum Verto_ - correctly.

"Your jab is too close to the match," Alex offered as she watched Susan's hand. Susan's response was to look pointedly at Alex's own match, which lay untouched.

Alex laughed. "Point taken," she said, and turned to her own work.

_Okay,_ she thought, mentally reviewing the spell movements. She understood the mechanics of Transformation theory well enough. No need to review that. But the motions themselves were important too. _Firm grip. Reduced fourth position is an invocation of iron, twisting from closed to open first, to denote the transformation of the object. Jab from open first into closed first with the incantation to imbue the spell with power, and to indicate the transformation from a living material to dead. Stop the jab short, as a matchstick is close to a needle._

Her hand moved, and she went through the motions with ease.

"_Lignum verto!_" she said, firmly but not loudly, and stopped the jab short.

The match wobbled and flashed silver, but stubbornly remained matchstick-like. Alex frowned, and tried again.

"_Lignum verto!"_

The same thing happened. _What am I doing wrong?_ _My Articulation is correct, I think. It's making the change, then reverting. So the form of the spell is right, else it wouldn't be the right object that it's turning into. The needle is resisting the change... maybe I need to just need to overpower the resistance._

Alex looked around cautiously. The book had said never to do it. Maybe she should ask McGonagall... and then she saw Hermione pick up her wand, and cast the spell pretty well. _She rotated her wrist unevenly_, Alex thought, but not much else was wrong with her wand motions.

Like Alex's, Hermione's match quivered and flashed a silver colour.

"That's right, Miss Granger!" said McGonagall, "a point to Gryffindor."

Alex turned back to her match with new determination. She wouldn't let Hermione beat her.

"_Lignum Verto!_" she said, forcefully, and just as she made the jab, she flicked her elbow up slightly, making it almost a forward flick.

Her match turned into a shiny needle: silvery and pointed, with an eye at one end.

"You did it!" said Susan, looking at her in awe. As one, the class turned to stare at her, and McGonagall came striding over. She picked up the needle, and gave Alex a piercing look.

"Again," she said, and she returned the needle to a match with a flick of her wand.

Alex swallowed, glancing around at the class. They were all watching her. Hermione looked like someone had slapped her.

She did the spell.

"_Lignum Verto!_" she said, trying to disguise the trick with her elbow. The match turned into a needle. The class clapped, and McGonagall's lips thinned.

"Miss Potter, are you aware of what you just did?" she asked, interrupting the applause.

Alex licked her lips. She was never good at lying. She decided to go with the truth. _Who knows? Maybe that's what you're meant to do. It needed more power, after all._

"Yes," she replied, simply.

"Five points from Hufflepuff," McGonagall said, before turning Alex's needle back. "Let me be clear," she said, addressing the whole class now. "There will be no Dark magic in my classroom. I do not tolerate it, and neither does Professor Dumbledore."

Alex blushed deeply as the class looked at her in shock - except Hermione, who had an insufferably smug look on her face.

"Back to work!" said McGonagall, and the class busied itself once more. Professor McGonagall turned back to Alex.

"It's best to nip these things in the bud, Miss Potter. It may seem harmless now, but a raised elbow like that can be extremely dangerous when performing animate or human Transfiguration. Now, show me the spell again. Properly, this time."

Alex, suitably chastised, did the spell - without the elbow. Once more, the match flashed silver and looked momentarily pointy, before returning to a match.

This time, McGonagall smiled. A small smile - just a quirk of the lips, really - but a smile nonetheless.

"I can see you've been reading, Miss Potter. Your spell is near-perfect."

"But why doesn't it work?" said Alex, confused. A near perfect spell should be able to make at least a _partial_ Transfiguration.

"The material," McGonagall replied. "Wood comes from a living thing, and is easily Transfigured. Metal, however, is dead and doesn't like to change. It resists magic, to varying degrees. The reason why the elbow worked was because you needed to overcome that resistance."

"So how do I overcome it, without using my elbow?" Alex asked, excited. _This_ was why she was at Hogwarts. This was stuff she couldn't learn from books.

"You don't overcome it. No - you work with it. You must understand the substance, modes and attributes of metals to transfigure them."

That made sense. _A Beginner's Guide_ had included chapters on the nature of Form and Substance, but both had used glass and wood as examples.

"Normally I wouldn't recommend a first year study such things. However... I recommend you read _this_ book," - she scribbled a name and author on Alex's notes - "if you want a good introduction to Transfiguring metals. You can find it in the library."

By the end of the lesson, no one had succeeded in even a partial Transfiguration. Alex and Hermione's brief flash of silver was the furthest anyone had gone, and neither of them had got any further.

Alex got _Iron Will_ out of the library immediately - she didn't know if Hermione had also been told about it, and she wanted to take it before Hermione could. It had meant she was almost late for History of Magic - taught by a young and rather clumsy man called Mr Hunt - but it was worth it.

Her other lessons were as she expected. Latin was boring but useful; Herbology was fun but a bit pointless, unless you were stuck without an apothecary. Philosophy was similar to History of Magic, but instead of events and countries they were thinking about the history of ideas. Their first lesson was about an Ancient Greek called Aristotle and his "categories". Professor Waffling was good, but he was a bit confusing sometimes - Alex thought that perhaps he wasn't used to talking to children.

Astronomy - for which they had to get up at midnight on Wednesday evenings - was tiring, but it was interesting learning about the names of the stars. Alex had a bit of trouble seeing the shapes in the sky that Professor Sinistra talked about - it just looked like a mess of dots to her, and which dots made up the shapes seemed completely arbitrary - but it was pretty anyway.

It was Potions and Charms, though, which Alex had been looking forward to most, aside from Transfiguration. Unfortunately, her first lessons in both - sandwiching lunch on Thursday - proved to be unpleasant experiences.

"Potions is the oldest form of magic taught at Hogwarts," began Professor Snape, starting to talk before he had even reached the front of the class. He was younger than Professor Veigel, but had a similar presence. His cloak billowed behind him as he walked, and he had a way of looking at you that felt like it pierced your soul.

"It possesses truly unique powers, unreplicable by wand, and is often more reliable than Charms, more powerful than Transfiguration. Where a Transformed Human may be vulnerable to Untransfiguration, Polyjuice is not. When a Charm may be insufficient to augment human capabilities, a Potion can."

He paused at the front of the class, and sneered at them.

"Of course, most students never fully grasp the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron, nor the power of its products. It takes a certain subtlety of mind to truly understand Potions, a subtlety which some," - he turned to look pointedly at Alex - "lack."

Alex frowned. Had she offended him in some way?

"Today we will see if any of you have the aptitude to make something of yourself in my classroom. Open your books to page one-hundred and ninety-four." The class scrambled for their books. _Salve to Cure Boils_, the page read, right above the instructions.

"Miss Potter!" Snape said, spinning on his heel to face her. "What is the difference between a salve and a potion?"

"You don't boil a salve, sir, and the result is thicker, so you can put it on your skin," she answered. It was in the second chapter of their book.

Snape's lip curled.

"Correct," he spat, and he turned back to the blackboard. He didn't look very happy that she'd got it right. No points or anything. With a wave of his wand, a piece of chalk floated up and began to write instructions. "You will work individually," he said without facing the class. "you have an hour. Should you need more ingredients, the store is clearly marked."

Alex frowned. Wasn't he going to tell them any more? She had questions. But it seemed like he wanted to see how they worked without instruction - a test. Alex quickly set up her cauldron as the book had described, and took out a chopping board. She read the instructions again, making sure she had all the ingredients to hand - meanwhile, she noticed Susan was already grinding her snake fangs.

Alex prefered to work more systematically. What if you started the potion, and then spent time at a crucial moment looking for the next ingredient? Still, she couldn't help but feel the need to rush - she didn't want to finish last. As she checked the instructions, she began to notice small differences between the instructions in the book and those on the board. The book called for a half pint of water, but the board said to use only a third. The book said to take the the cauldron off the heat before adding the Porcupine Quills, the board said nothing.

Porcupine quills reacted strongly to heat, Alex remembered. If you added them to the cauldron before turning off the fire, the mixture would probably explode. Why had Snape left it out of his instructions? And why was the water different?

Alex raised her hand.

"You have a question, Miss Potter?" Snape said, swooping over to her desk.

"Yes, sir. What effect does reducing the water have on the salve?"

"It may surprise you to learn, Potter, that I'm not here to hold your hand. I understand that you're something of a... _celebrity._ However, you cannot expect any special treatment in my class."

Alex blushed as Susan looked over. That wasn't what she was asking for at all!

"How... _disappointing_," Snape continued, and it was clear he wanted the whole class to hear - there was a gloating sound in his voice. "It appears our local celebrity is unwilling to think _for herself_. Do you see any of your classmates asking such questions?"

That didn't mean much, Alex thought. Sophie hadn't even measured her water, and Wayne had added his snake fangs after hitting them with the pestle once. The others obviously weren't thinking it through.

"Did you know, Miss Potter, that I knew your mother?"

Alex almost stopped breathing. This man had been friends with her Mum? The class was quiet now, potions momentarily forgotten.

"Yes, indeed. Lily _Evans_ was among the most talented witches to walk these halls. She had a particular gift with potions." Snape glanced over Alex's workspace, and it was very obvious that she hadn't even started the potion. "I had hoped her daughter would share her talent."

Alex opened her mouth to speak, but she was speechless. _I won't cry_, she thought. _I won't_. _Not here._

With one last penetrating look, Snape walked away. Alex blinked back a tear. She'd show him. She'd make her parents proud. _Tears aren't part of the potion_, she thought, trying to rub her eyes without anyone seeing.

"Ignore him," said Susan, reaching out to grip her hand. "I'll help you, if you like."

"I don't need help," Alex snapped, and she snatched her hand back. Susan looked hurt, before turning back to her own potion.

"Fine," she said.

They worked in silence after that. Alex regretted being mean, but was determined to focus on her potion. She worked exactly, following the instructions as closely as possible, deciding to go with Snape's change. After a bit of thought, she figured out that using a quarter pint would cut down the reduction time, but you'd have to do it on a lower heat, and add another round of stirring to make sure everything dissolved properly.

At the end of the lesson, Alex's cauldron held three tablespoons worth of thick, creamy white paste. She was one of the few: Susan's was okay, if a bit yellow; Sophie's had somehow turned out well too, and Astrid's was almost identical to Alex's. Sophie and Susan received praise from Snape, who held up their salves to the class as examples. Alex and Astrid were ignored.

"What a crown," said Lily as soon as they were out of earshot. "He actually called me a _dunderhead_. What the fuck - who actually speaks like that?"

Alex smiled. Normally she thought Lily was a bit... abrasive. But anyone who called Snape a crown was all right in her books. They sat together for lunch, taking turns to criticise Snape: his manner, his speech, and especially his physical appearance.

"I wonder if he's a vampire," said Alex, not entirely seriously. "Ball's Bestiary mentioned them. Pale skin, a preference for dark places... I wonder what'd happen if he went out in the sun."

"Ball's Bestiary... Alex, you need to get out more," said Lily. "Do you ever just... hang out?"

"Of course I do," replied Alex -

"She just reads at the same time," added Susan, smiling. It looked like she'd forgiven Potions. Alex couldn't interpret the looks she was giving Lily, though. "Come on, Alex," Susan said as soon as they had finished eating. "It's time for Charms."

She practically dragged Alex from the table, leaving Lily - who still hadn't finished - sitting alone.

"God, Lily is such a bitch," said Susan as they walked away, and Alex frowned. Sure, Lily was rude, but Susan hadn't shown any sign of disliking her before. "The way she talks about everyone... and remember how she treated Hannah, at the sorting feast?"

"I guess," said Alex, a bit uncomfortable, but that seemed enough for Susan, who smiled at her.

Hufflepuff had Charms with Slytherin. Their class was taught by Professor Winters, something the boys seemed rather happy about. And Alex had to admit, she was much nicer to look at than Professor Flitwick, who was rather old and very short.

"Charms is the bread and butter of magic," said Professor Winters, once she had sat them boy-girl alternating. She had a matter-of-fact way of speaking - cheerful and entirely unrefined. It was a welcome change from being surrounded by posh kids. "Most of the magic you'll do in everyday life and work comes under Charms. Now, Hogwarts has a tradition which dates back over four hundred years. So books away, everyone, and stand up, please."

They followed her instructions excitedly, and as soon as they were all standing, Winters flicked her wand, clearing the desks to the sides of the room.

"_Incendio!_" she said, pointing her wand at the centre of the stone floor, and suddenly a huge fire erupted, burning from the floor to the ceiling. The heat from it was instantly noticeable, and Alex began to sweat. Even though it was burning on stone, the fire showed no sign of stopping - or growing.

"Everyone in a semi-circle around the fire," said Winters, "and observe." She moved her want slowly through the positions, making sure they could see properly. Fifth, right next to the side of her head - invocation of fire. Second, in front of the body, pointing upwards - used to cast on yourself. Alex realised where the lesson was going and grinned. _Yes!_ She'd wanted to try the spell at home, but had lacked the fire to make it worth it.

Winters finished the spell by tapping herself on the forehead, calling out "_Corpellus!_". And then she stepped into the fire.

A couple of girls screamed in shock, before she walked out of the fire through the other side, completely unharmed. The class clapped, and she gave a mocking bow.

"The Flame-Freezing Charm," she said, "has been the first Charm taught to first years at Hogwarts since the witch burnings of the 1600s. By the time you leave class today, you'll be able to cast it too."

She made them practice the wand movements and the incantation separately, before putting them together. But there was something odd about it - over and over her books had talked about how important it was to truly understand the magic, not just go through the motions. And yet here they were, just learning about the words and sounds. She raised her hand, and Professor Winters walked over to where she and Susan were practicing.

"Yes, Miss Potter?" she said.

"I have a question about the Charm," Alex said, and the Professor motioned for her to continue. "Well, isn't it - I mean, shouldn't we have to study a load before we can cast it properly?"

Winters smiled, and clapped to get the whole class' attention.

"Miss Potter has asked a very interesting question. Would you like to repeat it for the class, Alexandra?"

"Shouldn't we have to learn some theory, before we can cast the spell?"

"Any ideas?" asked Professor Winters, giving the class an opportunity to speak. All she got were blank stares - and a few accusing looks at Alex, as if she was trying to ruin their fun.

"No? Okay, I'll tell you. Normally, Alexandra would be right - you have to understand magic to be able to use it. But the Flame Freezing charm was the subject of one of the most exciting projects in the history of Charms. Some of the most brilliant minds of the 18th century worked on this problem, refining the theory behind it over and over. The goal was to make it so simple that any 11 year old could cast it. So that any witch or wizard would be able to defend themselves from burning. And they succeeded - which is why now all you need to learn are the movements and words, and you can cast the spell."

They returned to practicing, but Professor Winters' answer only left Alex with even more questions. What, exactly, was a spell? How was it that a man three hundred years ago could refine a spell theory to its most simple, and then she could cast the spell without knowing it?

"You'll have to ask Professor Waffling about what a spell _is_, I'm afraid," replied Professor Winters, when she asked. "It's more his area. But I can answer the second question. The theory is so simple that it's actually contained _within_ the incantation and wand movements. The invocation of fire, the intent to defend, and the desire to cast on yourself - that's all the spell is, now."

After another ten minutes practice they were ready.

"Okay, everyone!" called Winters, "enough practice. Everyone line up in front of the fire."

They gathered nervously in a line - it was one thing to practice, it was entirely another to walk into a roaring flame.

"You don't think she'd actually let us walk into the fire, if we've got the Charm wrong, do you?" said Susan as they waited their turn.

"I'm sure she's in con-"

"Well, look who it is," interrupted Daphne, coming to stand behind them. A pair of Slytherin girls were with her - Pansy, Alex thought one of them was called - and a giant of a girl called Millicent Bullstrode. "It's the Muggle lover."

Alex scowled, but couldn't think of anything clever to say. Daphne smirked.

"So, you don't deny it? You _are_ a Muggle lover?"

Pansy and Millicent giggled, and Alex noticed a couple of others were beginning to listen in. She spun back around.

"I am _not_," she spat, glaring at Daphne.

"Oh? So you agree, then? That Muggleborns aren't real wizards?"

"That wasn't what I said," Alex replied. _God, why is she so stupid?_

"Stupid Potter, can't even make up her mind," said Daphne, turning to Pansy. There was a jeering tone to her voice that made Alex want to punch her in the face. "Do you even know what we're talking about?"

Alex seethed. She _wasn't_ stupid. She wasn't a Muggle lover. She wasn't obsessed with blood like the Purebloods. She was in the middle somewhere.

"Just because I-" she began, but Professor Winters called over.

"Pay attention, girls!"

Alex turned back to the front, ignoring the whispers of "teacher's pet" coming from behind her. While she waited, she entertained herself with thoughts of Daphne's Charm failing as she walked into the fire. Before long it was her turn.

"_Corpellus!_" she said, taking her wand through the motions.

"Perfect!" said Professor Winters, and Alex stepped forward into the fire. She felt nothing - a slight breeze, perhaps, but certainly no heat. "Good!" said Winters again, "Next!"

After those first classes, their lessons turned thoroughly theoretical. It seemed that the teachers liked to do a bit of practical magic in the first class, but afterwards they began with the real stuff - which meant books and notes and diagrams and not many spells. That suited Alex fine, as she found theory interesting, but she could tell many of her classmates were both bored and confused by it. _How do they not understand?, _Alex found herself thinking many times, whenever one of their Professors was forced to explain the same thing _again_.

She'd also found herself avoiding Daphne, who took every opportunity to call her names. If it had just been Daphne, it wouldn't have bothered her - but it wasn't. That became clear at dinner on Friday evening. It was the end of her first week at Hogwarts, and she was sitting, as usual, at the Hufflepuff table with Susan.

"I really don't understand how you can eat so much and be so thin," said Susan, staring at Alex's plate, which was piled high with sausage and mash. "It's just not fair."

Alex didn't know if it was because she was just the way she was, or if it was because she was a metamorphmagus. She couldn't tell Susan that, though.

"Just lucky, I guess," she said as she poured gravy all over her potato.

"Hey, Muggle lover! Pass the gravy won't you?"

Everyone laughed, and Alex froze. It was Tiberius. He was grinning cheekily - that stupid grin he always had, with his stupid scruffy hair. She stood up.

"Fuck you!" she said, and she threw the gravy at him, before storming out of the Great Hall.

* * *

… _The school of Associative Charms (also known as Sympathetic Charms) is often considered the most complex and, potentially, the most powerful. It is through clever application of Association Charms that the Ministry of Magic has created much of the infrastructure of Britain, including Floo, the Trace, and the Taboo. Association charms allow a wizard to influence a far greater area than his immediate surroundings._

_The most advanced forms of Association magic link together a vast range of physical and abstract objects in a variety of relations. Such magic is extremely complex and a complete mastery of Ideal casting is required. However, there is a branch of Association which is simpler, and that is the area of Mechanical Association. The paradigm of Mechanical Association is the Seesaw Charm._

_The Seesaw Charm is, prima facie, a simple Charm. It creates an intangible bridge between two objects, inversely associating their vertical motion. When one goes down, the other goes up by the same distance. The quality of the bridge depends not only on the skill of the caster but also on the similarity of the objects, where similarity is defined by Suppes' Theory of Object Similarity (borrowed from the field of Transfiguration). Similarity is a five place predicate, a balance of function, form, substance, arithmetical and alchemical properties. This balance is governed by the Levian Formulae (see chapter two for a detailed discussion of these formulae)._

_The Seesaw Charm is traditionally thought of as very simple. Indeed, it is often taught to first years at Hogwarts as a demonstration of the basic principles of Association. However, the Charm has considerable depth for those interested minds. For example, in his 1856 masterpiece, Everard Halting demonstrated how the Seesaw Charm may be exploited to create a Perpetual Motion Machine*. The key is that the mass of the associated objects plays no role in the displacement. This research paved the way for the engine of the Hogwarts' Express, created in 1936._

_This combination of simplicity and depth makes the Seesaw Charm ideal for our purposes. It is one of the most flexible spells in existence: with small changes, one can alter it to associate horizontal motion, or circular motion. More advanced changes are also possible. In the final chapter of this book, we shall even see that it can be used to associate motion with heat or light. It is thus the perfect Charm to act as a case study for the theories of Spell Extension which are, of course, the primary subject of this book._

"Alex? Are you in there?"

Alex looked up, placing a bookmark in _Plastic Magic_. She was sitting on her bed with the curtains closed, hiding after the events of dinner - she was pretty certain that throwing gravy over people in the middle of the Great Hall got you in trouble. But it sounded like it was just Susan, so Alex drew the curtains open - just enough to peek out.

Susan was standing on the other side, alone, and holding a plate of sausage and mash.

"I brought you some food," she said, and Alex was suddenly aware of how hungry she was.

"Thank god," she said, opening the curtains properly. Susan sat down on the edge of the bed and passed her the plate.

"It's gone a bit cold, I think," she said, "But I figured you'd be hungry."

"I guess I didn't really think the whole thing through," Alex said as she dug in. Susan was right: it was cold, but she ate it anyway. "But he just made me so _angry_. I mean, it's enough from Daphne and Pansy and the others. I didn't think Hufflepuff would join in too."

"I think he meant it as a joke," said Susan, before quickly adding, "of course, he was still a dick about it."

"I just wish I could go back to the train and say something different," Alex said. "Or to Charms. She always surprises me, and I can't think of anything to say."

"Just call her an ugly slut, or something," offered Susan, and Alex looked at her in surprise. "You don't have to write an essay, you know. Just say something mean back."

"I _want_ to," Alex said. "It's just - it sounds so lame. 'Hi Daphne, you're a slut!' It's not exactly clever, is it?"

"You're pretty smart, Alex," said Susan, looking at the book she'd been reading. "But you don't have to be clever all the time. Sometimes, you just have to call a bitch a bitch. This isn't Counter-spell."

Another reference Alex didn't get. "Counter-spell?" she asked. Susan waved the question off.

"Never mind. Radio programme. What I mean is you don't have to be witty. Just mean!"

Alex laughed.

"Ohh, I've got one," she said, her eyes lighting up. "Slytherslut!"

"Daphne Slytherslut - it has a ring to it," said Susan, joining in. "I know! How about this: Daphne Greenpubes!"

"Eww," said Alex, still laughing when a knock came at the door. Professor Sprout - their Head of House - walked in. She was a squat woman with greying curly hair and a bit of a moustache. Alex looked at Susan, startled, and she knew they were thinking the same thing: _please say she didn't hear us._

"Ah, Alexandra, there you are," said Professor Sprout. "Professor Dumbledore would like to speak to you in his office."

Alex's tummy flipped as if she was rocketing through Gringotts' vaults, and she suddenly wasn't hungry anymore. _Professor Dumbledore! The Headmaster! _It seemed pretty extreme for a bit of gravy.

Susan jumped up. "It wasn't her fault!" she said passionately, "Tiberius-"

"Whatever are you talking about?" said Sprout, and Susan's mouth snapped shut.

"Nothing!" she squeaked, and Sprout peered at them.

"Very well," she said, "Come with me, Alexandra."

Professor Sprout led her out of Hufflepuff and into an unfamiliar part of the castle. They were high up in the East Wing, if Alex's guess was right. Eventually they stopped in front of an alcove, which held a Griffin-like gargoyle.

"Jammy Dodgers," said Professor Sprout and, with the sound of grinding stone, the gargoyle rotated to reveal a spiral staircase. "Up you go, Alexandra. The Headmaster is waiting for you."

Alex gulped and walked up. A thick looking wooden door blocked the way and she moved to knock, but before her hand touched wood the door swung open.

The Headmaster's office was large, and high ceilinged, but managed to feel warm despite that. It was shaped like an oval and the book-lined walls were broken only by the odd cabinet, full of mysterious contraptions. Above the books were portraits - a multitude of them, whispering to each other as they looked down at Alex with curiosity. And right in the centre of the room was a huge desk, behind which stood Albus Dumbledore.

"Do come in, Miss Potter," he said, and he waved his hand. The door closed behind her.

Alex's eyes widened. _He did that without a wand!_ She knew that it would take her half an hour of concentrating to do what he'd done with a wave. Dumbledore indicated one of the comfortable looking chairs in front of his desk.

"Please, take a seat," he said, and then he walked around the desk to sit down himself, forsaking the throne-like chair on the other side. Alex sat opposite him, curious and confused. She still had no idea why he asked her here.

"I suppose you're wondering why I invited you here tonight," Dumbledore said, and Alex stilled. His eyes were twinkling. Could he hear what she was thinking?

"I must say, you gave a most impressive display in the Great Hall earlier," Dumbledore said, and Alex blanched. It _was_ about Tiberius! "Yes, let's see... five points from Hufflepuff for unladylike behaviour."

_Five points? He brought me all this way for five points?_

"Do you agree with this punishment?" asked Dumbledore. No teacher had ever asked her that before.

"Yes, sir," she said quickly, looking down at her shoes. The floor was very interesting - if you looked closely enough, there were all sorts of funny shapes carved into the stones.

"Wonderful! But, I confess, this is not why I called you here."

"It's not?" asked Alex, looking up now.

"No," said Dumbledore, quite firmly. "In truth, I simply wished to meet you."

Alex frowned. He hadn't done that with any other student, had he? Susan hadn't said anything about it, at least. Dumbledore appeared to see her line of thought.

"Come now, Alex - may I call you Alex?"

She nodded.

"Well, Alex - we could pretend that you are a student like any other, but we both know that this isn't so." Alex opened her mouth, but couldn't think of anything to say. "I speak, of course, of Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore continued.

"You say his name!" Alex said, surprised.

"Indeed I do, Alex," he said. "But I do not recommend doing so yourself. While you have certainly earned it, you don't wish to be accused of arrogance."

Alex thought back to the way her classmates talked about Voldemort. Almost like he was some kind of god. Perhaps he was right.

"But _you_ say it," she said, and Dumbledore inclined his head in acknowledgement.

"And do you think me arrogant?" he said lightly.

"No! I just meant - I mean, er..." Alex spluttered, feeling foolish. But Dumbledore smiled.

"That is good to know," he said, and Alex couldn't help but feel that she was being played with. "Now, how're you finding your classes?"

Alex smiled - this was a safer topic, even if she wasn't sure how it was linked to Voldemort.

"Great!" she said, enthusiastically. "We've started learning about Charms of Motion with Professor Winters, and Professor McGonagall helped me with the Transformation spell - I was having trouble with metals and she told me about this book, it was really good, all about the Iron family. I was going to read about the Silver family next, but Professor McGonagall says it's a lot more advanced and I should focus on getting the Mutation spell perfect before rushing on ahead."

She paused, trying to figure out what to say about Potions.

"You enjoy reading about magic, then?" asked Professor Dumbledore. He was smiling, but there was something else there.

"Oh, yes, of course! I've just got _Plastic Magic_ by... oh, I've forgotten her name now!"

"Verity Swann," provided Dumbledore.

"Yeah, that was it. Well, I just started reading that one tonight, it looks really interesting - it's all about... well, I suppose you already know what it's about."

"And how's your wandwork?"

"Well," said Alex, trying to think how to say what she thought without being boastful. "I think it's quite good - I mean, my spells turn out well, I think."

"Show me," said Dumbledore. He produced a wand from nowhere and a small block of wood appeared between them.

Transfiguration, then.

"What do you want to see?" Alex asked, drawing her own wand.

"Impress me," said Dumbledore, with a smile.

A challenge, then.

Alex thought for a moment, looking around for inspiration, before her eyes landed on a beautiful bird, gold and red, perched behind Dumbledore's desk. Perfect.

Her wand moved.

"_Mutato_," she said, and jabbed her wand at the wood. It shifted as if it were liquid, not solid, and a great bird formed, its wings outstretched, as if it were about to take off. Dumbledore leaned forward and moved his wand through the air around the bird.

"Extraordinary," he murmured, glancing several times at Alex. "This is a true Transfiguration."

"It is?" Alex said, surprised. She hadn't yet been able to make anything permanent.

"Indeed," mused Dumbledore, and he went in for an even closer look. "The detail could be finer, though. The feathers have a tendency to merge. See here, and here," - he pointed out areas where the feathers weren't as distinct as the others - "it's fine work, but not quite artisan standard."

Alex nodded, accepting his critique. She would get better.

"Do you know how you would add greater detail?" he continued.

Alex thought.

"If I knew more about birds..." she began, and Dumbledore nodded.

"It's true, if you were an expert on Phoenixes this would assist you. But one cannot be an expert on everything one wishes to Transfigure. How else could do do it?"

"I could... could I extend the motion from closed to open?"

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, "this is the stage at which the detail is added. You must allow time for it, or some detail will be lost."

"But I've seen Professor McGonagall do really detailed stuff really quickly," said Alex, thinking it through. In fact, unless she was demonstrating a spell for them, Alex had noticed that McGonagall rarely used much movement at all.

"This is true," said Dumbledore, leaning back into his seat. "Why do you think this is?"

Alex thought for a bit, but she couldn't come up with an answer. All her books had stressed the importance of precision with wand movements.

"I'll give you a hint," he said, when he saw Alex was stuck. "What is so special about moving your wrist that it changes the world? Why is it that the same movement could just as well create the shape of a dog as of a phoenix?"

That was easy.

"The movement is a symbol," said Alex, "it represents what's in the mind."

"Precisely. There is a phenomenon called Internalisation. - you'll study it in philosophy in fifth year, I believe. Internalisation is the process by which, as one advances in one's understanding and practice of magic, the wand movements become mental - to different extents for different individuals. When I conjured the wood, I made no complex motions with my wand. And yet, those motions were in my mind, buried deeply."

"So when Professor McGonagall does a spell, she's so used to slow twists for detail that she doesn't need to actually do one?"

"That is correct."

"But I understand slow twists too!" said Alex. "Why do I need to do it with my hand?"

Dumbledore smiled.

"You are indeed talented, Alex. But you are not Professor McGonagall - not yet. It's remarkable that you can do as much as you can." He picked up the Phoenix model and admired it some more. "Be patient. A piano player cannot go directly to sight reading, even if they know the notes. You may think you understand it but, as your education advances, you will begin to see new worlds of subtle understanding which are currently hidden from you. Your understanding must take root. It must become instinctive. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Alex said, and Dumbledore chuckled.

"I see you have another question, Alex," he said.

"Well, if the wrist turn is just a symbol, why do I need to do it at all?" she said. "I mean, why isn't just wanting it enough?"

"An insightful question," mused Dumbledore, "and this gets to the very heart of magic. I confess, there is no firm answer I can give you. However, I will tell you what I think, and you may draw whatever conclusion you like."

"Okay," said Alex.

"Think of it like this: your name is just a symbol. Your parents could have named you anything they liked. But they chose Alexandra. And now, if I started to call you Persephone, you would be extremely confused. At first you would not even realise that I was talking to you. Magic is like a language, Alex. A language to control the world. It's true, the symbols of the language are somewhat arbitrary - they could have been anything. But they are not anything _now_. They are what they are. If you chose to use a cartwheel instead of a twist of your wrist, it would be like me calling you Persephone - it wouldn't make sense."

What he said rang true. But there was a problem, Alex thought - with language you were talking to other people. You had to use the same words to make sense. But magic - magic was private. It was just her casting a spell. It was just her mind guiding it.

"But with a language, I'm talking with other people! Like you said, magic is in the mind. It's... it's _private_. So I should be able to choose whatever symbols I like, shouldn't I? Like I was making up my own language."

Dumbledore laughed. "Magic is private, you say? Were you not just telling me of all the books you have read, written by others?"

_That_ stumped her.

"You are certainly welcome to try to create your own symbols, Alex," he said. "Though it may take some time, constructing an entirely alternate body of theory for all of Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, and so on." He paused to make sure Alex was following. "But why do so? The theories we have now - the _symbols_ we have now - are the product of millennia of advances. Hundreds of the greatest minds of history, each building on the last. It would be far better, I'd say, to build on the symbols that already exist, wouldn't you agree?"

"Oh," she said, and she understood at last. She _could_ devise an entirely alternative system of symbols, if she wanted, and was clever enough. But why do it? It was pointless, and would probably be worse that the system that was in place now. And so long as she used the theories of others, she didn't have a free choice of symbols.

"This is very advanced material," said Dumbledore, standing up. "I expect it will become clearer as you study more philosophy." Alex stood up too - the conversation was apparently over.

"I've enjoyed our little chat," said Dumbledore, and he levitated Alex's wooden Phoenix over to his desk. "But I should let you return to your friends. We must do this again, though. In a few weeks, perhaps. That is, if you are amenable?"

"I'd like that," said Alex, wondering what 'amenable' meant.

"Splendid!" said Dumbledore, and the door to the office swung open. "Do come in, Professor Snape."

Snape looked between Alex and Dumbledore before he curled his lip.

"Professor," Alex said, acknowledging him with a nod, before hurrying out. Professor Snape was someone to avoid whenever possible, she thought.

It was only as she was returning to Hufflepuff that Alex realised how much she'd learnt from Dumbledore in that short conversation. Oh, she didn't know any new spells, or even any new spell theory. But she had a feeling, deep down, that she now understood magic a little bit better. Not Transfiguration, or Charms, or Potions. Magic itself. It made a little more sense.

"Alex! There you are!" cried Susan when she entered the dorm. All the girls were there, sitting in a circle on cushions, and a number of bottles, boxes and small tubs were spread out across the floor around them. Alex noticed that Susan's lips were a bright, electric blue. It looked weird, but actually went quite well with her ginger hair. "Come on!" she said, and she patted the floor between her and Lily. "We're trying some of Lily's make up!"

Alex grinned, and grabbed a pillow.

"Now, the trick is to blend it," said Lily, twirling a brush on Hannah's face. _Hannah and Lily must have made up_, Alex thought. _For now, at least. _"You don't want a big line on your face, after all. It's gotta look natural."

Dumbledore padded over and licked a bit of lip gloss.

"No!" cried Lily, snatching it away, and everyone laughed as Alex pulled Dumbledore back onto her lap.

"Here," said Susan, picking up a tiny glass jar of shimmering silver. "Let's try this!"

Alex nodded, and let Susan to begin applying something like sparkling glitter to her cheeks. It was a lot better than Muggle glitter, though. It was a clear liquid, but occasionally a bit would sparkle like a little star, before fading again.

"Not too much!" Alex warned as Susan scooped up a load with her finger.

She could do a lot of this stuff with her Metamorphosis powers, of course. Not the glitter, sure, but for Alex, most make-up was entirely unnecessary. And yet, as she watched Lily persuade the shy Megan Jones to try some lipstick, she thought that wasn't quite the point.


	8. Hogsmeade

**Alexandra Potter**

**By Taure**

_Chapter Eight: Hogsmeade_

It didn't take long for Alex to adapt to life at Hogwarts. She quickly established herself at the top of every class, and spent most of her free time satisfying her vociferous appetite for books. It baffled her, sometimes, how her classmates struggled so much with magic. It didn't help that they barely tried - hardly anyone had read their books, and very few read anything extra. Perhaps it made sense for the Purebloods - they were used to magic. But the Muggleborns? Alex thought they'd all be like her: eager to learn everything. By the time October rolled around, she'd read seven books - soon to be eight - and the list of books she wanted to read was growing faster than she could keep up.

Of course, not all of her classmates had problems with magic. Susan was pretty clever, and Astrid Lestrange - always quiet, always at the back of the class - did well. But it was Hermione Granger who nipped at Alex's heels, always in second place. At first Alex had been content to ignore her, but the Gryffindor girl had quickly become very annoying. Every time Hermione answered a question correctly, every time she received a teacher's praise or won points, she would turn to look at Alex with a look of smug success.

It was infuriating.

And so Alex gave as good as she got. She cast her spells faster, with more detail, with greater precision, with ever-increasing control. A few lessons ago, when they were studying the Levitation Charm, she'd even tried her hand at Spell Extension and adjusted the spell to take multiple objects. And where before Alex had been happy to work on her own, near the back, experimenting and trying to perfect her spellwork, now she sat near the front - always near Hermione - and made sure the teachers saw everything she did.

And then she'd return Hermione's smug look. Sometimes, after she had successfully cast a spell, she would find some excuse to walk past Hermione's desk, and make some disparaging comment about the other girl's work. "Is that a cat?" she might ask, cocking her head as she looked at what was clearly Hermione's attempt to shape her wood into a dog. Another time, when they were practicing forming a single object from several: "I didn't know we were meant to be working that small," she'd said, looking pointedly between Hermione's work and her own, larger and more detailed, model.

Such interactions always brought Alex a thrill of pleasure, especially as Hermione continued to act as if there was genuine competition between them - despite Alex's continued victories. As if they were equals.

Her relationship with Daphne, however, was considerably less satisfying. The Slytherin girl continued to harass Alex, finding every excuse to lay on some new abuse. The "Muggle-lover" insults hadn't stopped, and Alex now had to endure hearing it from almost the whole year. But now, at least, her attackers didn't escape unscathed.

It was in a Herbology class early in October that Alex discovered a new way to avoid Daphne.

"Now, does everyone have their flasks of bull semen?" asked Professor Sprout, standing at the head of the large wooden bench which dominated the greenhouse.

"Yes, Professor," mumbled the students, who were standing in pairs around the bench. They were studying Masochistic Marigold - a colourful yellow-orange flower with lots of ruffles and a bushy green undergrowth.

Their Marigolds, though, were looking distinctly unhealthy: the flowers were shriveled, and the stems droopy. It was their job to revive them - using a selection of glass flasks containing the most disgusting substances known to Professor Sprout: pig's blood, bull semen, troll mucus, and a number of similar fluids. The Masochistic Marigold's health, beauty, and potency in Potions depended on a regular diet of the foulest ingredients; the focus of the day's lesson was to find the best - or worst - combination of feed. Vincent the Vile was famous for perfecting the formula, and his marigolds were sought the world over.

"Shall we try the pig's blood first?" said Alex to her partner, choosing the least nauseating option.

"All right," said Malfoy, flipping his book open. "It says here blood should be body temperature for the best effect. Is it?"

Alex held her hand to the glass.

"Nope," she said, pulling out her wand. "But let's see..." She drew a circle around the flask, before jabbing at it. "_Calortendo_," she said, and the blood warmed up to exactly 98 Fahrenheit.

Malfoy looked at her in surprise. And, if Alex wasn't mistaken, admiration.

"Your Charms class must be ahead of mine," he said, feeling the now-warm glass. It wasn't, of course: Alex had found the spell in _10 Essential Charms for the Stranded Witch or Wizard_. She decided not to make an issue of it.

"Does the book say anything about how much to give it?" she said as she uncorked the flask. Malfoy flicked through a few pages.

"I don't think so. It says it should be dripped onto the flower from a height, though." He read a few more lines. "As if from an actual bleeding person. _Brilliant._"

Alex scrunched up her nose, at both Malfoy and the pungent tang of blood.

"Okay, pass me a pipette," she said, her voice sounding rather nasal as she tried to breathe only through her mouth. He followed her command, and passed her a thin glass tube with a screw top, like a fountain pen reservoir. She dipped it in the blood, then allowed a few drops of blood to fall on the flower from above. The flower perked up immediately - not fully healthy by any means, but it seemed to stand a bit straighter, and the colour of the petals grew stronger.

Alex wrote down some notes in her table. Malfoy didn't bother.

"Okay," she said. "Now you do the bull... you know." Alex blushed, pushing the flask of white liquid towards Malfoy with a single disgusted finger.

"You know, I've been meaning to talk with you," said Malfoy with forced casualness as he worked. "I told you I'd talk with you about the Muggleborn Issue. I've got some books in my bag, if you want."

"Hang on, why're you using a spoon?" Alex interrupted, changing the topic to buy time. It was true, she was rather ignorant about the whole issue of Muggles and Purebloods. It was one of the many things Daphne lorded over her. But did she actually want to become like Daphne?

"What else would I use?" said Malfoy. His lip was curled in disgust as he looked at the spoon.

"Well," Alex said, her cheeks burning. "If the blood was meant to be like a person bleeding, shouldn't this be more like..." she trailed off, trying to find the right words. "...squirty?"

"Oh," said Malfoy, joining Alex in embarrassment. "OH. Okay. I'll, um, get a, er..."

"I think a syringe would work," mumbled Alex. _Why did I say anything?_

"So, do you want the books?" said Malfoy as he used a syringe to shoot lines of bull semen over the leaves of the flower. He was studiously _not_looking anywhere near Alex. "They're very good. Did you know that after Grindelwald's War, there was a fifty per cent increase in Muggleborn births for ten years?"

"No, I didn't," said Alex, not exactly sure how that was useful information.

"Don't you see?" said Malfoy, getting more excited now. His squirting got more enthusiastic, and the flower seemed to grow before them. Alex edged away slightly. "The two are connected - the fall in Pureblood numbers and the increase in Muggleborns. According to Oswald, it means there's only a certain amount of magic in the world. Every time a Muggleborn appears, it means less magic for Pureblood children. More squibs, or fewer births."

Alex could think of a couple of problems with that idea, but decided to say nothing. Maybe they were discussed in the books.

"All right, I'll look at the books," she said, mentally rearranging her reading plan. She'd have to put off reading _The Arithmancer's Atlas_. Arithmancy wasn't studied at Hogwarts until third year, but a lot of her reading was talking about it, and she wasn't really understanding those bits. _Iron Will_, for example, had talked about the arithmetical stability of substances. Alex had no idea what that meant - and she needed to, if she wanted her Transformations to last.

"Okay, let's give the dung a go," Malfoy said when the syringe ran out.

Oddly enough, the dung had very little effect on the plant. If anything, it seemed to wither it.

"I wonder if it's because it's a fertiliser..." Alex said as she took notes, mostly to herself. It was because she was so busy writing that she failed to notice Daphne's approach. Malfoy, however, was more observant.

"Daphne, how good of you to visit us," he said loudly. Alex spun around, just quick enough to see Daphne hiding something behind her back.

"Draco," said Daphne, her voice neutral. She looked annoyed.

"What've you got there, Daphne?" he replied, craning his neck as if to look around her.

"Nothing!" she replied rather quickly. _Caught red-handed_.

Malfoy smirked. "I knew your family had fallen on hard times... but really? Stealing from the greenhouses? Perhaps you should ask Weasley for tips."

A few eavesdroppers laughed and Daphne's face twisted in anger.

"Of course, if you'd like a _job_, I'm sure my father can find something for you on our estate," he drawled. "Something appropriate to your _talents_."

The laughter grew, then, though Alex didn't understand why. She'd have to ask Susan later. Daphne, though, looked like she knew exactly what he was talking about. She spun around and practically ran out of the greenhouse.

"Miss Greengrass!" called Professor Sprout from the other side of the class, shocked, but Daphne was gone. Sprout turned back to the class. "If, when I return, you aren't all working hard, it'll be detention for anyone messing around. Understand?"

"Yes, Professor," the class mumbled, and with a nod Sprout went after Daphne.

Alex turned to Draco.

"That was _brilliant_," she said. "I've never seen anyone deal with her like that."

Draco smirked. "That?" he said, clearly pleased with how everything had gone. "That was nothing."

"Still, thank you," Alex said. Maybe she should hang around Draco more. He wasn't so bad, no matter what the Gryffindors said.

"You know," said Draco, and there was an odd tone to his voice. "There's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up in a few days. If you wanted, we could, um, well, that is... we could go... together?"

Alex went to say something, but then her brain caught up with what he had said. She shut her mouth in surprise. He was asking her _out_? She was so surprised she spoke without thinking.

"I'm already going with Susan," she blurted out, and Draco's hopeful face fell.

"Of course," he said stiffly.

"But... maybe next time," Alex added. That gave her time to think. _Did_she want to go out with Malfoy?

"I'd like that," said Draco, and they turned back to their work quickly when Professor Sprout walked back in, Daphne in tow. It looked like she'd been crying, Alex thought with glee.

"Back to work, everyone!" barked Sprout when she saw they were all just standing around talking. "You have to write this up for homework, and if you have no data it'll be your own fault!"

Alex and Draco shared a grin when they looked at Malfoy's rather blank notes.

"Here," said Alex, pushing hers over. "Copy mine."

* * *

"You mean... she put it in her _mouth_?" asked Alex, appalled. "People do that?"

The girls giggled loudly, earning a dirty look from Simon Taggart - the 6th year prefect accompanying them down to Hogsmeade village. Only third years and above were allowed to visit the Wizarding village on their own, so the Hufflepuff girls had been given an escort by Professor Sprout - much to Taggart's displeasure.

The wind whistled, and Alex gathered her robe around her as they passed through Hogwarts' main gate - a long tunnel under a crumbling gatehouse. It was uncommonly cold for October, and the gatehouse was like an icebox. She needed to buy some warmer clothes - all of her purchases at Madam Malkin's had been summer robes. Luckily, she still had five galleons left over from Diagon Alley.

"Honestly, Alex, haven't you ever heard of a blowjob?" asked Lily.

Alex was too surprised to be embarrassed by her lack of knowledge.

"You're joking with me, aren't you?" she said, suspicious. "People don't really do that."

This sent the girls into even louder guffaws. Even Hannah was laughing. Alex looked at Susan.

"It's true!" protested the redhead, who had put her hair up into a braided circlet - with Alex's help. It was a bit annoying that Susan was copying her hair, but she'd helped anyway.

Alex scrunched up her nose as she realised the girls weren't lying to her. _Why on earth would you want to put a dick in your mouth? I'll never do that._

"So Daphne gave Toby Ashby a... blowjob?" she asked, still disbelieving. Toby Ashby was a Slytherin third year, and on the Quidditch team.

"Well, that's what Toby told Humphrey, who told Marcus, who told Cedric who told Megan," said Lily, all in one breath. Alex looked at Megan in surprise.

"Cedric spoke to you?" she said. Cedric was a fourth year Hufflepuff, and very handsome. Alex wouldn't put his dick in her mouth, but she wouldn't mind kissing him.

Megan ducked her head. "Well, perhaps not _spoke_," she said. "But he sat next to me at lunch, and I heard him talking with Stebbins about it."

Hannah looked at Megan jealously. "I can't believe he _sat next to you_," she said dreamily. "He's so beautiful."

"You mean handsome," said Susan, not in a mean way.

Hannah stuck out her tongue. "I said what I meant. Cedric Diggory's beautiful."

"Hang on," said Alex, not yet finished with the conversation about blowjobs. "What's Daphne saying about it?"

"Not much," said Lily, who was closest with the Slytherins. You'd never guess it from her dirty mouth, but Lily was Old Blood. The Moons used to have a seat in the Warlock's Council, before they lost the Civil War. Her fool ancestor Charlus Moon had even challenged Brandon Swann himself to a duel. The duel ended with Charlus missing a head and Swann's armies free to take Nottingham.

"But did she or didn't she?" pressed Alex.

"Probably," said Lily, shrugging. "Judging from the way she reacted to Malfoy."

Alex laughed, remembering. "I was so confused," she confessed. "But it makes a lot more sense now. It was rather clever, really."

Lily looked at Alex speculatively.

"So I heard something interesting yesterday," she said. _This doesn't sound good_. "Apparently, Draco Malfoy asked you out, Alex."

"What?" said Susan. _Crap,_ thought Alex. _Should've told her sooner._

"He may have wanted to come with Hogsmeade with me," she said, unable to stop herself from grinning.

"And you said _no_?" asked Hannah.

"Well, not exactly _no_," said Alex. "I just didn't say yes."

"I can't believe the only one of us who got asked out said no," grumbled Hannah, and Lily laughed.

"That's not _entirely _true," she said with a smile. Hannah gasped.

"Who?"

"Ronald Weasley," Lily said, and they all laughed. "Of course I said no," she added, "he's no Draco Malfoy."

Alex looked at Susan, who was strangely silent. Normally she loved conversations like these. But she was oddly subdued today, Alex thought. _Is it because I didn't tell her about Draco? She was perfectly fine before we started talking about -_ _oh_. Alex realised the truth. Susan _liked _Draco. Alex immediately decided to avoid the subject - unless Susan brought it up. No reason to rock the boat.

The sound of laughter further down the path interrupted Alex's thoughts. Taggart was setting a quick pace, and they were quickly catching up to another group of girls. Alex's heart sank when she saw who it was: Daphne, with Pansy, Tracey Davis and Sophie Roper.

"You better watch out, Alex," Pansy taunted as their groups joined together. The Slytherin girls were being led by Mandy Werrel, a pretty 6th year prefect, and it looked like Taggart had a thing for her. "You can't hide behind Malfoy forever."

Alex rolled her eyes. "I'm _shivering _in fear," she said, and the Hufflepuffs laughed. Daphne scowled.

"You should be," she said. "I'm going to make you wish you never left your filthy Muggle relatives."

"Speaking of filthy..." said Susan - the first thing she'd said in five minutes. She looked to Alex and grinned. Alex took the hint.

"How's Ashby, Daphne?" said Alex with a smirk, "You know, if you ever need it, I hear Madam Pomfrey can provide Witches' Brew."

Pansy gasped, and for a moment Alex thought Daphne was going to slap her.

"At least I _have_ a boyfriend," she said at last. "An _older_ boyfriend. No one wants to go out with _you_. Well - maybe if you begged Goyle. But even he wouldn't dirty himself with someone like _you_."

Alex clenched her teeth.

"Someone like me?"

"Yeah, you know-" Daphne looked around, then leant in closer so the prefects couldn't hear - "a _mudblood_."

Susan gasped, and Lily's wand had somehow appeared in her hand. Even Sophie looked shocked. Alex was just confused - it was a bad word, obviously, but she'd never heard it before. Not even from Lily.

"_Furnuncu-_" Lily began, a nimbus of orange light forming around her wand, but -

"_Salvo!_" cried Mandy, and Lily's jinx spluttered and died before it was fully formed. The prefects weren't as idle as they'd looked.

"Enough," said Taggart, bringing them to a stop. "Lily, prefects' detention. Friday, eight o'clock. Same for you, Greengrass."

"No," said Mandy, giving Taggart a look. "Daphne will be coming with me to see Professor Snape when we return."

Daphne's gulp was audible.

"Ohh. You're gonna have _fun_," Lily said, grinning. Alex didn't know what she was talking about - Snape was famously easy on his own students. She'd probably just get away with a slap on the wrist.

"You better watch your mouth," Daphne said, but she wasn't looking at Lily. She was looking right at Alex. "You never know what trouble it might get you into."

_Perfect._

"Well, you're the expert on how to use your mouth, I suppose," Alex said, grinning. Lily burst into laughter and Daphne reddened.

"Merlin save me from first years," Taggart muttered.

"I think it'd be best if we split up," Mandy said. "Simon, you go on ahead. I want to have a chat with these ones first."

"Good idea," said Taggart, "Come on, girls. Let's get this over with."

Hogsmeade village was like something out of a storybook. The streets were narrow and cobbled, and the houses were built in what Alex thought of as a Tudor style, all exposed wooden beams and crooked windows. As they made their way to the centre of the small village, however, the buildings got older and larger, many of them made of the same stone as Hogwarts castle. And right in the centre of the village was the High Street - a single street of shops, not unlike Diagon Alley.

The village was packed with Hogwarts students. The older years wandered around in small groups, but here and then you could spot larger groups of first and second years being led around by prefects.

"That's the Three Broomsticks," said Taggart, pointing to a large pub on the corner. "We'll finish there. Famous for their Butterbeer. Now, do you just want to wander or is there anything in particular you want to do?"

"I need some quills and parchment," said Megan.

"Me too," said Alex, thinking of her dwindling supplies. "And is there a clothes shop?"

"There are three," said Taggart, and he looked at what Alex was wearing for the first time. "You'll want Alain Fixworth, I think. Gladrags is alright, but not as fashionable. And Hornby's is second-hand. We can go to Scrivenshafts on the way."

"Ohh, Fixworth's," said Susan, "I've always wanted to go in there!"

"How come?" said Alex.

"He's the best designer in Britain!" said Hannah, scandalised that Alex didn't know. "You'd have to go to France for better clothes!"

"Hey!" said Lily. "My Mum's stuff is miles better than Fixworth's!"

Hannah looked startled. "Oh, yes," she said. "Um, I'm sure it is."

"Hang on, what's that?" said Alex, interrupting their fight before it could start. A shop across the street had caught her eye. It had large glass windows displaying all sorts of crafted objects, from a lifesize bronze sculpture of a lion, to tiny little robins made of silver, and much more besides. There was a naked stone woman wearing a dress of swirling water, and a sculpture of a dragon poised to fight, a ball of flame burning in its mouth. The sign above the window declared the shop to be called _Manor_. "Can we take a look?"

Taggart sighed.

"Fine, let's go."

They crossed the street over the grumbling of the other girls. Alex immediately walked over to the window with the robins.

"The detail is amazing," she said, almost pushing her nose against the glass. "_And_ that's real silver!" _Now_she understood what Dumbledore meant by artisan quality. "I mean, they look like they could get up and-"

As if obliging her request, one of the trio of robins perked its head up, gave a silent chirrup, and jumped off its shelf, fluttering around the window. Alex gasped.

"Living silver," said Taggart, suddenly interested. "I'm not sure if even McGonagall could pull that off."

"Can we go in?" said Alex. Susan groaned, and Taggart looked up at the darkening sky.

"Not today," he said after a moment. "I want to get back before it rains, and we don't know how long Fixworth's will take.

Alex immediately resolved to return, the next time she came to Hogsmeade.

They were in and out of _Scrivenshafts _in less than ten minutes. Alex eyed a spell-checking quill with interest, but in the end decided to stick with her standard self-inking non-drip version. After grabbing several pads of parchment and paying she was done.

_Alain Fixworth Apparel_was another matter entirely. It was almost empty, so the girls had the run of the shop floor. They went from rack to rack, holding hangers up to themselves and each other, then gasping when they saw the price tags.

"Rhia, this is eleven sickles!" said Lily, holding up an under-robe with a plunging neck. "It's nice, though."

"You don't have the boobs for that," said Susan bluntly, "here, try this." Susan passed Lily a black lace robe that was, in places, rather transparent.

"Ohh, I like it," said Lily, and Alex agreed. But she was looking for warmer clothes, not more under-robes. She found a couple that she liked.

"What d'you think?" said Alex, holding one up to herself - a silvery grey robe like nothing she'd seen before. It was sleeveless, with a hood, and made of an extremely light, silky material. Despite that, the tag claimed that it came with a sewn-in warming Charm. "You're meant to combine it with a long-sleeve under-robe, I think." She held up a dark blue under-robe she'd picked to go with it.

"It looks good!" said Susan, sizing her up. "But it's not the kind of thing you can wear every day..."

"Yeah," said Alex, who'd realised the same. "I've got this as well." She showed them a dark green pullover with a duck knitted into the breast.

"It's so cute!" Susan gasped.

"Here, feel it," said Alex, "it's really soft too."

"Goes with your eyes as well," added Lily, returning from the counter. "Have you seen the lingerie? It's so pretty."

Susan rolled her eyes.

"Ladies!" called Taggart. He was waiting by the door. "We don't have all day!"

The girls moaned, but they hurried up nonetheless. Lily dragged them on a brief trip through the lingerie section, but none of them bought anything. It was all made for older girls. But Lily was right: it was pretty - if a bit uncomfortable-looking.

After more nagging from Taggart, Alex bought her robes - thirty sickles in total - and they left for the Three Broomsticks, where they were to try Madam Rosmerta's delicious Butterbeer. The pub was the complete opposite of the Leaky Cauldron: it was clean, spacious, and everything looked new. It was also completely packed. After finding them a table, Taggart left them for his own friends.

Their Butterbeer arrived in glass bottles, and the sticker on the front was handwritten, like homemade jam. _Madam Rosmerta's World-Famous Butterbeer, _it said in calligraphic script.

"Why don't they have this at Hogwarts?" said Alex after taking her first sip of the golden liquid. It was amazing - warm, sweet, buttery, yet not _too_sweet. She could easily have drunk bottle after bottle.

"No idea," said Susan, who had already finished half of hers. "Too expensive, I guess. It's not something the House Elves could make, so they'd have to buy hundreds of bottles a week."

Alex hadn't known Hogwarts used House Elves, but it made sense. The castle was huge, after all.

"We should buy some extras," Alex began, "to take-"

She was interrupted by a loud cheer the next table over. It was another group of Hogwarts students - 6th years, by the look of them.

"Down, down, down, down," they chanted, and Alex watched as one of them - a grinning boy - took up a thimble sized glass of amber liquid. He hesitated a moment, then downed it. The table cheered. For a moment it looked like he was fine, but his face got steadily paler and paler, until it looked like he was going to be sick. He opened his mouth, and before Alex could look away, a giant fireball shot out like dragon's fire.

"Firewhisky," said Susan at Alex's questioning look. "You have to be 17 and over to buy it."

She didn't look too happy about that, Alex thought. The idea of Susan getting drunk was quite funny. _Maybe I could get her some Firewhisky for her birthday, somehow_.

"So Alex, when are you going to say 'yes' to Draco?" asked Lily.

"Well, I'm not sure if I'm going to..." said Alex. She was still uncertain about the whole thing. Draco was alright, but she couldn't really imagine kissing him. It just seemed weird. And wasn't that what having a boyfriend was mostly about?

"Of course you'll say yes!" said Lily. "Daphne has a boyfriend. You need one too."

Alex hadn't thought of it like that. It was a good point. _Imagine Daphne's face when she finds out I'm going out with Draco. IF. If I go out with Draco._

"But what if he wants to... you know," said Alex.

"What if he wants a blowie, you mean?" said Lily. Alex blushed. Lily was rather direct. _I wish I could just say whatever I wanted_.

"Mmm," said Alex, agreeing. "I mean, isn't that the kind of stuff boys want to do?"

"Well, if you don't want to do it, you just say no," said Lily. Alex wasn't sure it was that simple.

"Or you make him do you first!" said Hannah, going bright red.

"Hannah!" said Lily, actually shocked. Alex frowned.

"Er, I don't have a dick," she said, rather confused.

The girls laughed, and Alex started to get annoyed. Not knowing things wasn't fun.

"Oh, Alex," said Lily, smiling. "There's so much we need to tell you." She leaned over to whisper right into Alex's ear, cupping her hands to hold in the sound. "_They lick your you-know-what_," she whispered.

Alex spun to look at her, eyes wide.

"Ewwww," she said. She didn't want someone's face _there_. How embarrassing would that be? Alex had, of course, explored herself in the bath, a bit. She got the idea. She wasn't stupid, nor as innocent as she sounded. It would probably feel nice. But the idea of an actual person doing that to her - it was too embarrassing to imagine.

"What?" said Megan, who had been listening to everything in stunned silence. She looked at Alex. "What did she say?"

Alex gestured at Lily. "You tell her," she said. Lily grinned, and repeated what she'd done for Alex. This time Alex got to watch, and she had to admit: it _was_funny watching Megan's face. She laughed with the others.

"That'd probably be Draco's reaction too," said Hannah, grinning. "And the best thing is, he can't really argue against it, can he? It's just fair."

"But what if he said yes?" said Alex.

"Then I guess you're in for a bit of fun!" said Lily, with an evil smile.

"This is all theoretical, of course," said Alex, glancing at Susan. "I still haven't decided what to tell him."

"And probably, he's not going to ask for a blowie," said Lily.

"Of course he isn't!" said Susan. "Draco's a gentleman!"

Lily snorted. "Gentleman or not, he's still going to want to touch those," said Lily, gesturing at Alex's boobs. Alex looked down at her chest protectively.

"How do you know about all of this, anyway?" said Alex. Maybe Lily was just making stuff up.

"I dunno," said Lily, "Magazines? It's not like there's some big secret. Mum talks to me about this stuff all the time. And what my Mum won't tell me, Lizzie - my older sister - does."

"How old's your sister?" said Alex.

"She's fifth year," said Lily. "She's probably around Hogsmeade somewhere, actually. With her new _boyfriend_. Honestly, he's all she ever talks about now. Oliver this and Oliver that. Bla bla bla."

"You don't mean Oliver Wood?" said Hannah.

"Not many other Olivers, are there?" said Lily.

"The Gryffindor Quidditch Captain?" asked Alex. She'd never spoken to him, but she'd seen him in the hall.

"The _Hogwarts_Quidditch captain, now," said Lily, rolling her eyes. "He was selected by Dumbledore last week for the match against Montery Hall."

"I didn't know we played other schools," said Alex. Quidditch season was starting soon, and she was looking forward to seeing her first game. It sounded so exciting.

"Just one match a year," said Susan, joining back in. "Sometime around Christmas. People come from all over to watch it."

"Hogwarts always loses," said Lily with a grin.

"Maybe now Oliver's captain we'll win!" said Hannah.

"Being pretty doesn't win Quidditch games," said Susan. "Hogwarts _always_loses."

"What's that?" interrupted Taggart. Alex jumped - she hadn't seen him coming back. _Thank god we weren't talking about blowjobs_. "Is that a lack of school spirit I hear?"

"It's a fact," said Lily. "Hey, aren't you on the Hufflepuff team?"

"Keeper," said Taggart with obvious pride, and Alex noticed that Hannah was suddenly making gooey eyes at him too. "We're gonna win the cup this year. I can feel it."

"Really?" said Lily, "'cause everyone's saying Slytherin's gonna win."

Taggart shook his head mockingly.

"Whatever happened to House pride?" he mused.

"I think the Slytherins have locked it in the dungeons," said Susan, and they all laughed.

"Right you are," said Taggart. "Anyway. I came over because we've got to leave - it's tipping it down out there."

They all turned to look out the window. Taggart was right: beyond the warm fires of the Three Broomsticks, it was raining hard.

"That looks like the perfect reason _not_to leave," said Lily. "I don't want to get wet."

"Which is why we're going by Floo," said Taggart. "Come on."

He led them over to the fireplace, over which there was a large pot of green powder. Alex looked at it nervously. She'd read about Floo, of course, and she'd even seen it before - back at the Leaky Cauldron. But she'd never done it herself.

"Professor Sprout's Office!" said Lily, quite clearly, before throwing the powder into the fire. The flames shot up and turned a bright neon green. Without a hint of hesitation, she stepped into the fire and disappeared in a burst of flame.

"You next, Alex," said Taggart, who was watching her carefully.

"Alright..." Alex said, picking up a good fistful of power. She took a deep breath. Lightning flashed. "Professor Sprout's Office!"

* * *

The Floo ejected Alex hard, sending her tumbling into darkness.

"Oof!" she said, the breath knocked out of her. She couldn't see - not at all. Wherever she was, it was pitch black. She could feel grass beneath her hands, but she knew, somehow, that she wasn't outside. It was too warm. Too dark. And there wasn't any wind. She passed her bags to her left hand and drew her wand.

"_Lumos!_" she said, making an extra sharp flick for more powerful light. The distinctive silver-white glow of wandlight revealed a cavern of jagged black rock. The walls were rough, and stalactites hung from the high roof. The grass under her feet was lush, despite being underground. _Definitely a magical place, then_.

Alex turned around and almost gasped.

A huge stone circle was behind her, just like the pictures of Stonehenge. Its tall stones cast long shadows in the dark, and Alex was suddenly aware of how alone she was. She felt a tingling on the back of neck, and spun around again. There was nothing there.

_Don't panic_, she told herself, peering into the dark. _Who knows what creatures might live down here._She turned back to the circle.

The circle was made of two rings: an outer circle of huge arches, and an inner circle of smaller standing stones. But where Stonehenge was crumbling and falling apart, this one looked like it would last hundreds of years more. It wasn't _new _- not by any means. But it was in amazing condition.

Alex held her wand up and walked through one of the arches, into the circle.

_Wow_.

For a moment, she forgot that she was completely lost. She walked the circle, trailing her hands over the rock. _I could be the first person to touch these in a thousand years_, she thought.

But when she got to the other side of the circle, she could see that wasn't true. Her light revealed a wooden door, set into the rock. Alex stared. It was so incongruous - a door in a cave. Hanging to one side of the door was a portrait of a man slumped in an armchair. He was fast asleep. To the other side of the door was a low stone plinth, upon which sat a heavy-looking book, like a bible in a church.

"Hello?" said Alex, and her voice echoed through the cave. The man in the portrait stirred sleepily.

"What's that?" he said, standing up. And then he saw Alex. He stared at her for a moment, his mouth open, before - "Students!" he shouted, breaking the quiet of the cave, "students out of bounds!"

"Wait!" Alex said, but too late. The man disappeared from his frame in a hurry.

_Well, at least I know I'm still at Hogwarts._ _But where? I've never heard of anywhere like this._

She tried the door, but it was locked. _Maybe the portrait will come back. Maybe he'll fetch a teacher._Even though she was stuck, she felt safer just knowing she was in Hogwarts, so she turned back to the stone circle, now curious. Was it some kind of pagan thing? Was that why it was hidden away? Alex hadn't seen much of anything religious since arriving at Hogwarts, but she knew there was a pagan society - though of course they didn't call themselves that. Every year they sent the Headmaster a letter demanding that Christmas be replaced with the Winter Solstice.

She thought the book might have some answers, but as soon as she flipped it open she knew it wouldn't be telling her anything. It was written, by hand, in some strange language she'd never seen before. _Hring stana hér be Wealcyn áræde_, said the first sentence. It was nonsense - yet, parts looked almost like English.

"Here be Wealcyn?" she muttered, frowning. _Maybe 'Wealcyn' means 'stone circle'._

"A circle of stones, built here by the Celts," said Dumbledore. Alex jumped - she hadn't heard him come in. "That is what it says."

"Oh," said Alex, turning back to the book. "What language is it?"

Dumbledore smiled, walking over the stand next to Alex. "It is, of course, English."

"Old English, you mean?" she said. Alex hadn't realised they were so different. She'd thought Old English was just like modern English with funny spelling.

"Quite. Written by Rowena Ravenclaw's own hand, no less."

Alex looked at the book in newfound awe. Rowena Ravenclaw was famous for her knowledge. _If only I could read it_.

"It's quite something, isn't it?" said Dumbledore, and he offered her his arm. "Shall we walk together?" Alex nodded, and put her arm through his. Up close, she realised just how tall he was - well over six feet. He towered over her.

Dumbledore led her back into the circle, and they walked around it slowly.

"I must say, Alex: you're full of surprises," he said. "I didn't discover this place until I was a teacher, and I believe I was the first person to step here for a thousand years - there was certainly no sign of anyone else. And now, not a century later, you stumble across it."

Alex smiled weakly, not sure what she should say. She fought back the reflex to apologise. "And where exactly are we?" she said. "I kinda came here by accident." It had to be well hidden for no one else to have found it.

"Few ever realise how large Hogwarts is - how deep into the rock it extends. To descend is to walk through time itself, and we are deep indeed. This is the very foundation of the castle - over a thousand years deep." He paused to place his hand to a stone. Alex wondered what he felt. "The accepted account of Hogwarts' founding claims the founders built the castle here to escape the conflicts of England. And perhaps there is truth to that. But the real reason was _this_. The circle fascinated the Founders."

"They didn't build it?" Alex asked.

"Oh, no. The Founders were Saxons. Even then, this circle was ancient."

"It's weird," said Alex, looking around, wondering what strange rituals were once performed within the circle. "People a thousand years ago thinking things were ancient."

"It is altogether natural for people to think of the past in such a way," said Dumbledore. "The timescales are hard to imagine. But in fact, the Founders were closer to the modern age than they were to the creation of this circle. It's almost three thousand years old."

"And, um, what was it _for_, exactly?" said Alex, imagining ancient wizards and witches dancing around the circle naked.

"Until today, that was a mystery," said Dumbledore. They finished their circuit, returning to the book. "Rowena Ravenclaw studied this circle for over sixty years," he said, gesturing at the book, "and yet all she was able to discover was that it is magical in nature, and its age. All of her other experiments - of which there were many - failed."

"But then I appeared here," said Alex, realising what Dumbledore was getting at. "I took the Floo, but appeared here."

"Fascinating, is it not?" said Dumbledore. "Somehow, three thousand years ago, ancient wizards were able to construct a method of transportation which matches anything from the modern world, short of apparition. I dare say the stone circles around Britain are all connected - an ancient Floo network."

Alex looked back at the book. She really wanted to read it.

"I don't suppose..." she began, before trailing off. Could she just ask for it? Dumbledore peered at her over his half-moon spectacles.

"As a priceless one of a kind antique, the book must, of course, stay here," said Dumbledore. "But oh my, I come down here so rarely. If someone borrowed it, I don't imagine I would find out for years." He looked down at his boots. "Goodness, my laces appear to be undone."

He knelt down, and Alex took the hint. While his back was turned, she stuffed the book into one of her shopping bags. He stood up again, but didn't turn around.

"Shall we go?" he said, and he opened the door. Bright light flooded in, and Alex had to screw up her eyes.

The way back to the main castle was long, dark, and had far too many spiral staircases. The corridors were narrow, low-ceilinged, and slightly damp. Here and there the stone of the castle even gave way to bare rock.

It made Alex wonder how Dumbledore had got down so quickly.

"I seem to recall saying that we should meet again, after our last conversation," Dumbledore said as they paused for a breather. The last spiral staircase had been over a hundred steps. "This was not what I originally had in mind." Alex rubbed her aching legs. "Take this," he instructed, and he passed Alex a thin glass vial. It was filled with a neon blue liquid - about a mouthful of it. Dumbledore produced another vial for himself and drank it in a single swig.

"Disgusting!" he said cheerfully.

Shrugging, Alex copied him. He was right - it was disgusting. But immediately Alex felt the soreness in her legs go away. In fact, she felt like she could run a marathon.

"Nice," she said.

"A useful potion indeed, especially for those of greater years," said Dumbledore. "You can find a good account in _Why Quidditch is Stupid_, if you're interested." Alex committed the name to memory. _Another one for the reading list_, she thought. They started walking again.

"Should you be interested, I'm having a small gathering in my office on the thirteenth of October, before the Quidditch match," said Dumbledore.

"A gathering? Of students?" said Alex.

"Some students, yes. The Head Boy and Girl, among others. Some close friends. Some members of the board. A truly eclectic bunch."

"Oh," said Alex. It didn't sound very interesting to her, but she didn't want to offend Dumbledore.

"Of course, were you to arrive to the party early, I would be obligated as your host to entertain you," he continued.

_Well, that doesn't sound so bad. I could ask him about stuff, like last time_.

"And a friend of your parents will be there. A man called Remus Lupin - he has been wanting to meet you for quite some time now."

Alex didn't need to think.

"I'll be there."


	9. Watch Your Mouth

**Alexandra Potter**

By Taure

_Chapter Nine: Watch Your Mouth_

"... from this, can anyone think of a reason why the Currency Crisis of 1701 is considered the goblins' last rebellion, even though no battles were fought?"

The class was silent. Alex looked around - almost everyone was inspecting the graffiti on the desks. Mr Trent sighed, and turned back to the blackboard. He waved his wand, and the words _COMMON FEATURES OF GOBLIN REBELLIONS _underlined themselves several times.

"Alex, how about you?" he asked. Predictable. When no one wanted to answer his questions, he always asked her.

"They wanted to reclaim rights from the Ministry," she said, almost as bored as her classmates - though for different reasons. She'd read this months ago. "All goblin rebellions involve a demand for more freedoms."

"Exactly!" said Mr Trent, excited. "Now, in this case they weren't going for wands. No, they played things smarter. They were less ambitious. Terry, what did they want?"

Terry Boot looked up, surprised to be addressed. "Er... wands?"

_A true Ravenclaw, that one._

"Please _listen, _Mr Boot," said Trent, annoyed. But he never gave out detention, so you could do whatever you liked. "No. Not wands. They wanted..." He looked around, hoping someone would finish his sentence for him. Alex kept quiet - she didn't want to be called a teacher's pet, like Hermione. "... they wanted independence! They wanted Gringotts to be considered not just a building, but a nation. Like an embassy, Gringotts is now sovereign territory."

Astrid - sitting at the back - raised her hand.

"Yes, Astrid?"

"But if it's independent, why can't they do whatever they want? Like use wands."

"Good question!" said Mr Trent. He was always so happy when people actually spoke in class. "The thing is, no nation exists in a vacuum. It's a balance. Since the Ministry's currency collapsed, the goblins have hung a counter over us. They hold all the gold. But at the same time, they know there are some things the Ministry would go to war for, even if it cost them gold. Wands are one of those things." He paused, and looked at his watch. It was almost lunch. "Quickly now: two more reasons why the Currency Crisis counts as a goblin rebellion."

Alex wanted to go to lunch, so she put up her hand. Mr Trent looked for other hands, but there were none.

"Go ahead," he said, sitting on his desk.

"It was started by the goblins, unlike the Wand Wood War of 1643 - though they still deny minting thousands of fake Rounds, it's pretty much proven."

"Good, good," said Trent, nodding. "Another?"

"The conflict was unequal. The goblins didn't have a chance of winning, if it came to full war. They do just enough to make life difficult, to make people worried. Then they say they'll stop in exchange for -"

_Dong_. One o'clock - the lunch bell.

The class was out of their seats before the bell had finished ringing.

"Homework!" Mr Trent shouted over the noise of people packing bags. "Six inches on why the Currency Crisis was a goblin rebellion!"

"Thank God!" said Susan as they left the class. "I swear, my watch started going backwards at the end there!"

"It wasn't _that_ bad," said Alex. She'd spent most of the class reading _The Arithmancer Atlas_, before Trent had started asking questions.

"It's a fucking shambles, that's what it is," said Lily, joining them. "All we do is _talk_. All lesson."

It was a fair criticism. If the rumours were true, the Hufflepuffs who had Professor Worthing used all sorts of stuff from the Winchester Archives: original documents, paintings, portraits. One time they'd even used Hogwarts' Retinarium to view a memory. While Alex's class was_ talking_about the Proclamation of Separation, the others got to witness Brandon Swann read it out from the Tower of London.

"I hope we have Worthing next year," said Alex, "that'd be cool."

Susan laughed. "Well, it certainly wouldn't be hot!" she said. Alex suppressed a twinge of annoyance. The other girls liked to make fun of her Muggle slang. She was trying to use it less, but sometimes she forgot.

Lily laughed. "_Cool_," she mimicked. "Muggles are weird. Megan, what was that one you said the other day?"

"Radical?" said Megan.

"Yes! That's it! _Radical._" Lily laughed again. "Do people actually say this stuff?"

Alex decided not to voice her opinion over how ridiculous 'zounds' sounded. She got called a Muggle-lover enough as it was, thank-you-very-much.

"God, I'm starving," said Susan, "I hope there's pie today - we haven't had pie in _weeks_."

"Just soup for me," said Hannah, "again."

"Really?" said Susan. "I'm sure that can't be healthy..."

As the girls asked Hannah about her newest diet, Alex's mind turned to her upcoming meeting with Remus Lupin - as it had tended to for several weeks now. After so much waiting, it was now just a few hours away. Her stomach flipped uncomfortably. What would he be like? What if he didn't like her? What if she didn't like him?

She'd tried to find out about him in the library, but there was very little in the way of publicly accessible student records. All she could find was his name, that he had enrolled in 1970 and graduated in 1977.

"... Alex is having lunch with Dumbledore. Aren't you?" said Susan.

"Not sure," said Alex, "he said they'd be food, but I don't know if it's a proper lunch. I think I'll have something now, just in case."

"All right for some!" said Lily. It sounded casual, but Alex could hear what lay underneath: Lily wasn't happy. _When her entire family is murdered by a Dark wizard she can feel free to complain_.

"Have any of you ever heard of Remus Lupin?" Alex asked. She'd only mentioned him to Susan so far. "He's going to be at the meeting. A friend of my parents, I think."

"Nope," said Hannah, and the others shook their heads too.

"Me neither," said Lily. "You don't know anything about him?"

"Not really," said Alex.

"But you'll be able to ask him all sorts of things about your parents," said Susan, "things the Muggles couldn't tell you."

"Yeah!" said Alex, perking up. Of course the Dursleys had barely told her anything. "Like what they _did_. What they _looked like_."

"Hang on," said Lily. "You don't even know what your parents looked like? You've never seen a-"

"-a photo?" said Alex. "No. The Dursleys didn't have any."

"That's terrible!" said Hannah. "I'm sure there must be people out there with photos. Maybe this Lupin guy can help you get-"

"Alex! Wait up!"

They turned to see Sophie Roper hurrying to catch up with them.

"What do _you _want?" said Lily.

"Just to speak to Alex," said Sophie, glancing around nervously.

"Well, you can't," said Susan, and Alex noticed she and Lily had formed some kind of human wall between her and Sophie. "Whatever you have to say, you can say to all of us."

Sophie bit her lip, and glanced around again.

"Daphne's _really _angry," she said. "You need to be careful."

_A threat, then. _Alex was surprised though - this was the first time Sophie had got involved.

"Well, you can tell Daphne that-" she began, but Sophie interrupted.

"Oh no!" she said. "I didn't mean it like-"

"We know exactly what you mean," said Lily, stepping closer to Sophie. It was almost funny: Sophie and Lily were the shortest girls in their year. But Alex knew she wouldn't want to get on Lily's bad side. Sophie stepped back.

"Fine!" she said. "Don't say I didn't warn you!"

"When is she going to give it up?" said Susan after Sophie was gone. "Daphne, I mean."

"I dunno," said Alex. Something wasn't right - this was different, somehow. _Was_it a threat? Or a warning?

Lunch was in full swing by the time they reached the Great Hall. They found an empty section of the Hufflepuff table and began to eat.

"How's the book coming along?" asked Susan, taking a small portion of pie. Unable to keep it a secret, Alex had shown Ravenclaw's book to the girls the very evening she'd 'borrowed' it. They'd all been suitably impressed by her possession of a Founder's object - Lily especially, when Alex mentioned she didn't really have it legally - but beyond that they weren't very interested. 'Insane' was the exact word Lily used, when Alex had told them of her plan to learn Old English. Of course, that was easier said than done.

"Not well," said Alex. "I found some books on Old English in the library, but they're more for reference than learning. All very... grammatical."

Susan shuddered. "Latin's enough for me, thanks," she said. "More than enough, really."

"Without Latin I'd be completely lost," said Alex. It wasn't her favourite class, but ever since she'd discovered an interest in Old English she was enjoying it more. It seemed less dead, now. She could see the links. "You know, they're actually quite similar, Latin and Old English. At least the grammar is similar. Not so much the words."

"So you _have _learned something, then," said Susan.

"Not as much as I'd like. I'm hoping I'll be able to ask Dumbledore about it later, actually..."

Megan cleared her throat pointedly and Alex stopped talking - just in time. Flora Darlington, a girl from the other dorm, sat down right next to them.

"Hey Flora," Alex said politely, somewhat nonplussed. Flora normally sat with Edith and Matilda. Had they argued?

"Hey," she replied, before turning to her food. Alex glanced at the girls. Lily shrugged.

"Have any of you been to a Quidditch match before?" asked Alex, filling the sudden quiet. The first Quidditch game of the year, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, was taking place that afternoon and Alex was looking forward to it. Not least because it meant that Potions was cancelled.

"A few," said Lily, "all Wimbledon Wasps games - they're the local team. My father takes me, Lizzie and Wilbur to a game a year."

"And? What's it like?" said Alex, moving to take a drink before she realised she didn't have one. "Flora, could you pass the juice please?"

Alex poured her juice as Lily spoke.

"Well, it's a lot more than just the Quidditch, you know? It has to be, 'cause sometimes the match only lasts ten minutes, if the Seeker's good. So before the main game there's the Youth Squad game, and normally some kind of music too, between the two matches. And lots of food!"

"That sounds really good," said Alex, taking another sip of her drink. "But I suppose the Hogwarts ones aren't the same."

Lily's eyes widened and Susan gasped. Flora looked at her in surprise.

"What?" said Alex, confused. They were looking at her like she was insane. What had she said this time?

"Are you feeling okay?" said Susan, looking concerned.

"Of course I am!" said Alex, and a few nearby Hufflepuffs, now listening in, burst into laughter. "What're you laughing at? Tell me!" More laughter, wider spread now. People at the Ravenclaw table were pointing at her.

"Alex, shut up!" hissed Susan.

"Hang on," said Lily, "where's Daphne?"

Alex looked around. She wasn't there. Why wasn't Daphne at lunch?

"I saw her speaking with Professor McGonagall," offered Tiberius. "Hey Potter, what's the time?"

Alex looked at her watch.

"Don't-" said Susan.

"Half one," Alex said, and this time half the Great Hall - waiting expectantly - burst into uproarious laughter. The Weasley twins were slapping their thighs, and Pansy looked like she might pass out from lack of air. Against her will, Alex felt her face go red. Why were they all laughing at her?

"What's going on here?" said a voice. Cedric Diggory - tall, handsome, he was striding down the table towards them.

"Oh no!" said Hannah.

"I've got no idea," said Alex, and Cedric stared at her in surprise. Alex spun to look at Susan, her irritation growing. "Explain. Now."

"Alex... don't you realise what you're saying?" asked Susan, as the Hall continued to point and laugh. Alex frowned.

"Absolutely nothing funny!" said Alex, but this time she thought she heard it_._ Something wasn't right. She wasn't saying what she wanted to say. She tried again, focusing on _listening_. "I like to smell my farts," she said to Cedric, and her hands shot up to clamp over her mouth when she realised what she'd said. If she was red before, it had nothing on now. Her face was so hot she knew she must look like a tomato.

She looked around. The whole school was looking at her. Listening to her. What _had _she been saying? Alex felt her stomach drop out, and tears formed in her eyes.

_Daphne._

She ran from the Hall.

* * *

Alex was still in the Sanatorium an hour later. It was a long room filled with natural light; two rows of beds lined the walls. Alex was perched on one of them, her legs swinging in the air, cheeks red and blotchy from now-spent tears.

"How're you feeling now, Miss Potter?" said Madam Pomfrey, the school's matron. She was a plump woman, friendly, and wearing light blue robes. She'd cast a number of spells on Alex, given her three potions, then told her to wait half an hour.

Alex took a breath. _Please be better_. "I have cheesy feet," she said, and scowled. Hidden away in the hospital wing it was less embarrassing, but it was still annoying.

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips. "Dear me! It's taken root deeper than I'd thought. Don't go anywhere, Miss Potter!" She bustled off back to her office. Alex opened her mouth to call her back - she wanted to know how soon it could be fixed - before she remembered that she couldn't. More than the embarrassing things, the inability to speak was maddening. And it was all Daphne's fault.

_Daphne_.

It had to be her. Oh, sure, she hadn't been in the Great Hall when it happened. That didn't mean much. In fact, it was rather suspicious - of all the days she decided to skip lunch to speak with a teacher, it had to be the day where Alex was attacked. It _did_mean, however, that someone else had to slip her the potion. No one else was talking like her, so it had to have been someone sitting close to her at lunch.

Flora. There was no one else. Flora had passed her the juice - she must have done something to it. Well, once Alex was better Flora would regret it. And so would Daphne.

Sophie had tried to warn her, Alex realised. _Not much use though, was it_. _She could've been a bit more specific_. Still, it was nice to know that Daphne couldn't control everyone. And then Alex remembered: Daphne had warned her, too. _You better watch your mouth_, she'd said.

_Ohh, she's good._

The door slammed open, making Alex jump.

"Why is it," Snape said, striding into the room, "that even when class is cancelled, students somehow manage to claim my time?"

He drew his wand from his sleeve - for a moment Alex thought he was going to curse her - and flicked it. A small cauldron popped into existence next to her bed, and a case of potions equipment.

_Snape's going to make me an antidote? Thank god._ Alex looked at her watch - Dumbledore's meeting would be in full swing by now. She was going to miss it all._ How long would the antidote take?_

"I peed my pants," said Alex, without thinking. She wanted to scream.

Snape looked at her. "I think it would be best if you refrained from talking, Miss Potter." He paused. "You may take that as general advice for life."

_And I think it'd be best if you washed your hair_, Alex thought. _You may take that as general advice for life._

Snape seemed to guess the direction of her thoughts. He gave her a nasty smile.

"Are you certain you desire the antidote?" he said, plucking some mint leaves from their stalks. He crushed them in his hands and let them fall into the cauldron. "Some may consider this an improvement."

Alex said nothing. Snape breathed a sigh of satisfaction.

"Ah, the sound of silence. I hear it so rarely." He smirked. "Perhaps imbibing a Draught of Mortification should be compulsory before all classes."

_For someone who likes silence so much, you sure talk a lot._

The antidote took a while to make. Alex watched Snape closely as he made it, trying to understand. She hadn't really read anything about antidotes yet and was bursting with questions she couldn't ask. Was the mint used because it was a problem with the mouth? She guessed the sage, which symbolised wisdom, was used because it was a problem with language, but how did it combine with the Jobberknoll feather?

Eventually, when it turned a deep purple colour, it was done. Snape used a ladle to pour it into a glass beaker and passed it to Alex.

"Drink it all," he said. Alex sniffed at it - mostly mint. _Not bad_, she thought, before downing the lot. It was hot, like trying to swallow tea before it had cooled down properly, but she finished it anyway.

"Well?" said Snape. "Say something."

Suddenly, Alex didn't know what to say.

"Is it working?" she said, and smiled widely when she heard her own words. "Oh!" she said, and she almost felt like crying again. "Thank you!" she said, before she realised who she was talking to.

"Well, at least you're polite," Snape said, using his wand to disappear his equipment.

"So I'm free to go?" Alex asked, "I can go to the meeting?"

Snape pointed at the clock. _Three thirty_. The match started at four. She'd missed the meeting. She'd missed Remus Lupin.

"Oh," she said, looking at her shoes.

Snape's lip curled.

"You may stop feeling sorry for yourself, Miss Potter. It is most unbecoming."

Alex glared at him. What did he know? Who knew when she'd have another opportunity to meet Lupin?

"Besides, knowing Lupin, the sentimental fool will be here any moment."

Someone knocked on the door.

"How predictable," drawled Snape as Dumbledore walked in. Another man was with him: he looked tired, with heavy bags under his eyes. His robes were frayed, and his brown hair was greying early. But despite all that, you could tell he wasn't bad looking, in a bookish way. _Remus Lupin_.

"Ah, Severus, excellent. You've administered the antidote?" said Dumbledore.

"Indeed, Headmaster. A simple matter."

"As always, Severus, you do yourself too little credit," said Dumbledore.

"Madam Pomfrey wasn't able to," added Alex, still rather thankful of Snape's intervention.

"Well, Severus always was an expert on the Dark Arts," said Lupin.

_What was that meant to mean? _

"Alex, this is Remus Lupin," said Dumbledore. Alex slid off the bed, suddenly aware of how much of a mess she was. She scrunched up her nose and fixed herself with a little push.

"Hello, Mr Lupin," she said, ignoring their looks of surprise. Hadn't Professor McGonagall told them about her metamorphmagus ability?

"Remus, please, Alex," he said, coming forward to kiss her cheek. He looked younger closer up, though he clearly hadn't been sleeping well.

"If that's everything," Snape said, interrupting, "I shall take my leave." He turned back to Alex. "You see, Miss Potter? You have your silver lining after all." He left with a flourish of his cloak.

"Well, Alex," said Dumbledore, conjuring a couple of squishy armchairs. Alex sat back on the bed. "As the Muggles are so fond of saying: what's up?"

Alex blinked.

"Er, much better, thank you," she said. She considered telling Dumbledore about Daphne, but she wasn't a tell-tale.

"It has been established that Miss Darlington was the culprit," said Dumbledore. He peered at Alex over his glasses. "You should know that Professors Snape and McGonagall have called for her suspension. But you are the victim here, Alex, and that gives you a say. What do you think should be done?"

Alex's mind whirled. _Suspend her!_ was her first thought. She deserved it. But didn't Dumbledore understand? Flora was just doing what Daphne told her to. _Daphne_was the one who should be suspended, not Flora.

"I don't think Flora did it," she said at last.

"No?" said Dumbledore, leaning back in his chair.

"She confessed, Alex," said Remus. "I know she might be your friend-"

"She's not my friend," said Alex.

Remus shared a look with Dumbledore. "Well, nevertheless, Professor Flitwick used his own guile detector to point her out. The potion in question was found among her belongings, and when confronted she confessed. It _was_Flora, Alex."

"Maybe she put the potion in the drink," said Alex, "but it wasn't _really_her."

"You refer, I assume, to your feud with Miss Greengrass?" said Dumbledore.

Alex looked at him in shock.

"How do you-"

"There isn't much in this castle of which I am not aware, Alex."

"Well then," said Alex, satisfied. "You know who it really was, then."

Dumbledore sighed. "Miss Greengrass has a rock solid alibi. She was speaking with Professor McGonagall at the time, and appeared to be most upset when she heard about your poisoning."

"I don't care," said Alex, "it was her, I know-"

Dumbledore held up his hand for silence.

"You are not listening," he said, his voice firm. "Daphne Greengrass, whatever your opinion of her, whatever her other crimes, cannot be held responsible for this."

"Well, that's just stupid," said Alex. Why was he being so stubborn? _She_ knew it was Daphne. _He _knew it was Daphne.

"Detention, Miss Potter," said Dumbledore, without moving, "and ten points from Hufflepuff."

Alex's eyes widened. Detention! She'd _never_ had detention! She thought Dumbledore was her _friend_.

"We enjoy an unusual relationship, Alex," said Dumbledore. He was completely calm. If he was angry, he gave no sign of it. "But do not forget. You are a student. I am the Headmaster."

Alex swallowed, and nodded.

"I'm sorry I missed your meeting," she said. "There's some things I wanted to ask you, about Old English."

"Another time, perhaps," said Dumbledore calmly. "In fact, I would rather like for us to have dinner tomorrow evening. Consider it your detention."

Remus raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Dinner?" said Alex. "In the Great Hall?" What would people say if she started eating dinner with a teacher?

"Ah, I see your concern," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "No, not in the Great Hall. In my office. You can ask me all the questions you like."

Alex smiled.

"That'd be great!" she said.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, and Alex remembered it was meant to be a detention.

"I mean, er, how terrible!" said Alex.

"Quite. Now, I believe you and Remus should have some time alone." Dumbledore stood up, and vanished his chair. "Good day, Remus, Alex. Do keep an eye on the time: the Quidditch starts soon."

He left Alex and Remus sitting in silence.

Remus cleared his throat.

"Well, I must admit: this wasn't how I imagined our first meeting," he said. Alex laughed, even though it wasn't very funny.

"Do you like Quidditch?" said Alex. _Stupid!_ _Who cares about Quidditch?_

"Well enough," said Remus. He glanced at the clock. The match started in fifteen minutes. "Shall we walk to the pitch together?"

"Sure," said Alex. Remus vanished his chair and led her out of the hospital wing.

"I imagine you have some questions for me," he said as they climbed down the main staircase. It was deserted - she'd never seen it so quiet. Their shoes clicked loudly against the stone as they walked. Everyone was at the Quidditch already.

"Why did you never visit me?" Alex said, kicking herself immediately. _Not subtle_.

"I suppose I deserve that," Remus said. He looked up. After a short pause, he spoke. "There's no single answer. And I think no answer that will fully satisfy you. The truth of it is that after Lily and James - after they died - I was in no condition to be looking after young children."

_And what about after?_thought Alex. She decided to let him speak, though.

"And then, when the Dursleys took you in, one condition of their accepting you was no contact by the magical world until it was time for you to come to Hogwarts. So that prevented me from visiting then."

Alex nodded. _I suppose that makes sense._

"But even if the Dursleys had allowed me," Remus continued, "There would be other barriers. Legal barriers. I'm not entirely sure that they're wrong."

Alex frowned, confused.

"And there you have it," said Remus quickly. They passed through a side door Alex had never seen, emerging onto the front lawn.

While the rear end of Hogwarts faced out over a cliff - the side Alex had seen when crossing the lake, back in September - the front of Hogwarts was a gentle, grassy slope. To the East lay the Forbidden Forest; to the West the lake, and Hogsmeade was to the South. The Quidditch pitch lay in a large hollow - a small valley, really - not too far from the forest.

"Neat," said Alex. They'd probably saved ten minutes - they'd make it to the match on time.

"You know, I thought you'd be bursting with questions about your parents," said Remus. An open invite.

"Only a hundred!" Alex said, and the interrogation began.

Her father had been a Quidditch player, it seemed. A chaser with Puddlemere United. He was due to play for England at the World Cup, too, before he went into hiding.

"Lily surprised us all, though," said Remus. "She had an offer from the Department of Mysteries. Turned it down to work on Slug and Jigger's Acquisitions team."

"Why?" Alex said. The Department of Mysteries sounded much more interesting than a shop.

"She didn't want anything to do with the Ministry - a common sentiment back then, given how corrupt it was. But even so, I think she liked the idea of making something of herself on her own. Not working for the government. She always had this rather romantic idea of the lone witch. The wise old crone living on her own at the end of the world." Remus laughed. "Of course, the wise old crone doesn't normally have a husband and child!"

Her father's parents had died of natural causes. Charlus and Dorea Potter had already been well into their middle age when her dad was born.

"Then, in 1979, the pair of them went trekking in the Ituri Jungle. Came back with Bingham's Fever. They died a week later."

Alex had been vaguely aware that magical diseases existed, but hadn't really had any contact with them. In a month and a half at Hogwarts, she hadn't seen a single sick person.

"But what were they _like_?" said Alex, feeling a bit better. She had some facts, now. But still, she felt that her parents were... distant. For all the facts, she still didn't really know who they were.

Remus sighed, and placed a hand on her shoulder. Though he wasn't a big man by any measure, there was a kind of strength in his hands. They were hairy, too.

"That," he said, "is an incredibly hard question to answer. How to sum up a person in a few words? They were both of them among the kindest, bravest, most generous people I have ever known. They were smart, talented, well-loved. They loved life, and they loved each other.

"And still, this just scratches the surface," he continued. "Many people are smart. Many are kind. But James and Lily... they were so much more. James had the fastest wit I've ever seen, and a taste for trouble. He was as loyal as any Hufflepuff, and once he decided to do something, it would be done. As for Lily: well, she had a temper on her, and held her friends to high standards. But she was the most compassionate person I've ever known."

Alex opened her mouth, but had nothing to say. She was surprised to find that she was crying.

"Here," said Remus, and he conjured her a handkerchief. She wiped her eyes, noticing that Remus' were suspiciously watery too.

"Thank you," she said as they neared the stadium.

From the top of the hollow, you could easily see over the stands onto the pitch itself - probably deliberate, in case the stands ever proved too small. The pitch a large oval, surrounded by what looked like a tall wall, decked out in House colours. The wall was interspersed with towers with seating at the top, but most students crowded along the wide walkway atop the walls - not sitting but standing.

Excited cheers and chants filled the air. The excitement was contagious.

"Alex!" shouted a chorus of voices. Alex looked up. Susan, Lily, Hannah and Megan were up in the stands, waving down at her. "Come on!" Lily shouted, "it's about to start!"

Alex looked between Remus and her friends, torn.

"Before you go, Alex: a piece of advice, if I may," Remus said.

"What?" said Alex.

"This argument with Daphne Greengrass: let it go. It will only lead to unhappiness."

Alex wasn't convinced. He was an adult - he didn't understand. She couldn't just let it go. Even if she wanted to, Daphne wouldn't let her.

"It's what Lily would have done," said Remus.

"And what about my Dad?" said Alex, "what would he have done?"

Remus hesitated.

"Alex!" called her friends.

"He would've destroyed her," said Remus. Alex grinned.

"Hurry up!" shouted Susan. "They're coming onto the pitch!"

"You go on to your friends," Remus said, "it's not right for a young lady to spend all her time with adults. I'll go find Professor Dumbledore."

He kissed her on the cheek, and moved to walk away.

"Wait!" said Alex, "there's one other thing..."

"What?" said Remus.

"It's just that, well, I've never seen a photo of my parents..."

Remus nodded.

"I'll owl you. Now, go to your friends!"

The crowd roared: the game had started.

Alex ran.

* * *

_Ding ding!_

"Gryffindor scores!" called Lee Jordan, the stadium erupting in cheers. Ten-nil to Gryffindor.

"Excuse me!" Alex shouted, squeezing roughly between a pair of banner-waving 7th years. She was pushing her way through the crowd, trying to reach Susan and the others, but it was slow going - especially as she wanted to keep an eye on the game at the same time. The players all moved so quickly, rocketing around on their brooms, swooping and banking like fighter jets.

Most of the game centred around the quaffle - a large, red ball - and already things were getting physical. As Alex watched, a Slytherin rammed right into one of the Gryffindor girls, sending her broom into a spin and the quaffle flying. Another Slytherin took it up as it fell, swerved upwards over a Weasley twin, dodged a Bludger, and -

_Ding ding!_

"An equaliser for Slytherin!" cried Lee Jordan, and Alex used the momentary pause to duck down and crawl through a forest of legs: not the most ladylike solution, but definitely the quickest way to the first years.

"_Sly-ther-in, Sly-ther-in,_" chanted the crowd above her. _What's happening?_Someone trod on Alex's hand.

"Ow!" she said, trying to shake away the pain, dodging a knee that would have smacked her in the head.

"Watch it!" shouted a fifth year - a prefect. She surfaced on the other side of the crowd, right behind Susan's distinctive red hair. She would've spotted her a mile away. She tapped her on the shoulder.

"Alex!" cried Susan. The girls had managed to get a spot right at the front, leaning over the barrier. A great view. "Budge up, everyone!" she said, leaning to the side to try to make space. A heaving of bodies followed as everyone tried to keep their spot. A tiny space appeared between Hermione and Draco, and Alex jostled her way into it, accidentally placing an elbow into Hermione's ribs.

"Careful!" said Hermione. She was actually holding a copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_, and kept flipping through the book, no doubt trying to look up the names of various manoeuvres. _She's insane_.

"Thank god," said Draco, and Alex smiled at him. He was wearing some really nice robes – Slytherin colours, of course – and had slicked back his hair. "Goyle went to find food and left me here with Granger. You feeling better?"

"Much, thank you," said Alex. _I bet he didn't laugh. He's always so nice._

"You'll be supporting Slytherin, of course," said Draco. Alex grinned, and shrugged.

"I dunno - maybe I just want an exciting match!"

And that it was: the Slytherins were on the offensive again. Their chasers shot across the pitch in a triangle, bouncing the quaffle back and forth whenever the Gryffindors got close.

"A classic Hawkshead Attacking Formation," said Hermione - though who she was talking to, Alex wasn't sure.

"Shut up, Granger," said Draco, and Alex giggled. Hermione glared at her.

"HEADS!" someone shouted, and Alex instinctively ducked. A bludger whipped past overhead, close enough to feel the backdraft. Just as Alex started to rise, she was forced to duck again: a Weasley was quick on its heels; he passed by, mere inches away from ramming right into the stands.

_Thwack! _Wood on metal: Weasley had caught the bludger. The iron ball was sent flying: right at Marcus Flint, the Slytherin captain. He dodged, but dropped the quaffle - quickly taken up by Katie Bell.

She didn't get far with it, though. A Slytherin chaser flew interference, cutting off her path again and again - until Marcus Flint came back for an aggressive tackle.

"Foul!" shouted half the crowd - Flint's foot had made contact with Katie's face.

"Foul!" confirmed Jordan, and Madam Hooch blew her whistle for a penalty shot.

Angelina Johnson took the quaffle in the centre. A slow clap started.

_Clap. Clap. Clap._

She accelerated, weaving left to right, before giving the ball a mighty overarm throw. She went for the right hoop. Ashby went left.

"Gryffindor scores!"

Alex clapped with the others, before calling over to Susan. "Who're we supporting?"

"Slytherin!" said Draco.

"Gryffindor, of course!" said Susan. "If Gryffindor win, and we beat Gryffindor, maybe we can lose to Slytherin and still win the cup!"

Alex looked at Draco. "Sounds good!" she said, enjoying his displeasure.

She turned back to the game just in time to see Flint take a bludger to the ribs and Alicia put the quaffle past Ashby.

"Another for Gryffindor!" shouted Jordan, clearly happy.

"Yes!" said Alex, raising her arms to cheer - and inadvertently punching Hermione. _Quidditch Through the Ages_went flying.

"Ouch! You did that deliberately!" said Hermione. She looked over the edge of the railing – the book was nowhere to be seen. "That was a library book, too! Oh no! What am I going to tell Madam Pince?"

"Maybe you should've thought about that _before_bringing a book to a Quidditch match," said Alex. She was utterly unsympathetic – it was Hermione's own fault. And after the day she'd had, Alex really didn't have the patience for dealing with her.

"No – that just won't do," said Hermione, drawing herself up, "you knocked it out my hands. You'll have to come with me to Madam Pince and tell her it was your fault."

Alex snorted.

"Sure. And right after that, I'll go tell Daphne what a lovely, sweet girl she is."

"I'm serious!" said Hermione. She looked half way between cursing Alex and breaking into tears. "Madam Pince is going to make me pay for it! Me!"

"Well, it _was_your fault," said Alex, trying to follow the game. Gryffindor had scored again and she'd missed it. Why was Hermione so annoying? Why didn't she just shut up?

"Alexandra-"

"-look, Hermione," said Alex. "I'm not going with you to Madam Pince. Deal with it."

Hermione went quiet, and for a moment Alex thought it was over. Angelina had the quaffle; Marcus Flint was a foot behind her – too close to see Katie Bell coming right towards him. Angelina swept to one side, and so did Katie. Flint was too slow: the bludger that'd been following Katie smashed right into Flint's face.

"Ohh!" The crowd winced in sympathy. _That boy sure can take a beating_, Alex thought as he got back on his broom. He was a thug, but she couldn't help but feel some small admiration for him. If she took a bludger to the head she'd be out for a week.

"Why do you hate me so much?" Hermione asked, her voice wavering. Alex sighed and yet again turned away from the match.

"I don't hate you," she said. _Though I will if you keep this up_. "You're just annoying."

Normally, perhaps, she'd be less direct. More polite. But today was not a day for politeness. And just like that, the gates opened.

"You're always trying to beat me," continued Alex. "Always trying to do better than me. You suck up to the teachers, you're bossy, and frankly, a bit of a know-it-all."

For a moment Hermione looked hurt, but it passed quickly. Her eyes went hard. "Oh please," she said, venom in her voice, "as if you don't do exactly the same. You're just like me, Alexandra!"

_No. I'm not_. _I'm better than you, and we both know it._

"There's one big difference between me and you, Hermione," said Alex, her voice completely calm. She knew exactly what to say.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I have friends."

Hermione looked like she'd been slapped. And then Alex twisted the knife.

"Hey, Draco?" she said, turning to include him in the conversation. From the way he was looking at Alex in shock, he'd been listening.

"Yeah?" Casual. Completely at ease.

"Yes," said Alex.

"Yes…?"

"Yes, I'll be your girlfriend," Alex said – without looking away from Hermione.

She wasn't crying. She didn't look angry. She just looked… empty. She turned away without speaking. "Excuse me," she said, trying to get away, but the mass of bodies was too thick. It took her several tries before she managed to break into the crowd.

Alex turned back to Draco and smiled. He was grinning like an idiot, and that made Alex grin too. _I have a boyfriend! Wait 'til I tell the – oh_. Alex snuck a glance past Draco at Susan.

Her best friend had heard everything. She was looking on with such a look of sadness - it was like a punch to the stomach. _Oh, Susan. I'm so sorry_.

Draco took Alex's hand and squeezed it. His hands were really cold, but she didn't let go. It was… nice. She giggled a bit, before glancing back at Susan. _She'll be okay._

Finally, Alex turned back to the match.

"Higgs has the snitch! Slytherin wins!"

* * *

Being only five hundred years old, Hogwarts' workshop was a relatively new addition to the castle. The British school had always been famous for the quality of its Transfiguration instruction; it was Britain's specialty. Headmaster Herbert Cassell, seeking to maintain that advantage, had ordered the workshop's construction in 1586.

The workshop was not a pretty building. It was squat and made of utterly plain, grey stone, hiding near the Forbidden forest as if ashamed of its ugliness. A stranger would be forgiven for thinking it a small prison before anything else, and the small, barred, windows did little to dissuade this notion.

Alex headed there as soon as the match was over. Normally she preferred to work in Hufflepuff - she liked listening with half an ear to the sounds of the House - but today was different. Today she wanted quiet. She needed some time alone. Time to think, and relax.

And, if she was honest, time to avoid Susan. In the heat of the moment she'd completely forgotten that her best friend fancied Draco. _It's not like she has some sort of claim on him, though_. Still, she knew Susan would be upset, and she didn't know how to deal with it. She wasn't going to break up with Draco. What could she possibly say that would make Susan feel better?

So she decided to avoid the whole thing. _Maybe it won't be such a big deal_, she thought as she approached the workshop. The giant man who had taken them across the lake - Hagrid, she thought - was outside, chopping a felled tree with an axe not much smaller than Alex.

"All righ', Alex?" he said, looking up from his work. It was a strangely familiar greeting.

"Fine, thank you," she said, "just coming to use the workshop. Is it open?"

"Never locked, tha' un," said Hagrid. "Not tha' many use it, nowadays."

"Okay, thanks," said Alex, her hand on the door. "Well, I'll see you later."

"Just shout if yeh need me," said Hagrid, and she went in.

It was dark inside, and cold. The tiny windows, covered with a thick layer of grime, barely let in any light, limiting her sight to shades of grey. At first glance, it looked like the room was full of tree stumps. Alex moved slowly through the room, her shoes clacking against the stone floor, and wondered what light charms they used in the 16th century. _Maybe the same as the Common Room_.

"_Lumos_," she said, but nothing happened. _Candles it is, then_. She drew her wand and incanted the Light Charm once more. The tip lit up with the tell-tale silver of wandlight, bringing the room into colour and clarity.

The workshop was surprisingly tidy – empty, really – but dirty. She could see the dust in the air wherever she pointed the wand. The stone tables clinging to the walls were covered in dust too. The walls were populated by cabinets with glass windows, but the glass was so dirty that the contents were a mystery. And looking up, Alex saw that the low ceiling was completely overtaken by a small colony of spider webs.

Now that she had light, she saw that it wasn't tree trunks in the centre of the room, but great cylinders of wood and stone and metal and glass; with several metres of empty space between them, each cylinder was given a wide berth. Perfect for Transfiguration practice.

"_Incendio_," Alex said, jabbing her wand carefully at a candle on the wall. She wanted to light it, not immolate it. Her wand flashed orange, and the candle lit like flipping a switch. And then, to Alex's great surprise, all the other candles – of which there were a great many, situated all around the room – lit in tandem with the first.

_Neat_, thought Alex. _Probably a_ _heat to heat sympathetic charm. On the brackets – too much waste to put them on the candles, and wax doesn't take Charms well. It would've worn off by now if it was the candles._

The room was now filled with a much warmer, even light, and Alex extinguished her wand. She regretted not paying much attention to the household Charms at the back of her Charms book. She'd read it, of course – several times – but never practiced them much. She could make her bed, sure, or clean up a spilled drink, but this was on a completely different scale. _Now's not the time for experimental Charms_, she thought. _I'd probably just end up with a face full of dust_.

And so, resigned to the dirt, she pulled three books out of her bag and put them down on a desk. There was a reason why she had come, after all. She wasn't just there to explore: she wanted to finally get a handle on shaping metals.

She'd done everything the wrong way around, so far. She had started with her Transfiguration book, trying to Transfigure metal with a theory focused on wood. And then, when she failed, she'd turned to _Iron Will_ to learn all about metals. But even there, enlightening as it was, she ran into problems. So, finally, she'd read _The Arithmancer's Atlas_, which filled in the final piece of the puzzle. With it, she could make sense of _Iron Will_, which she needed to perform the Transfiguration.

She opened _Iron Will _to her bookmark, reviewing the information one last time.

_… The metals in the Iron Family are known as the Dead Metals because, unlike the Silver and Copper families, they lack any kind of intrinsic magical powers. However, in many ways the phrase "Dead Metals" is a misnomer, and for that reason it has fallen out of use in philosophical circles. The phrase has its origin in the writings of the great Roman philosopher Agrippa. While the importance of Agrippa's work is not to be underestimated, it is now known that several metals identified by Agrippa as Dead are not, in fact, part of the Iron Family. It is for this reason that the two classification systems are not to be confused, though the layman continues to conflate them..._

_… While the Iron Family lacks magical powers, it is far from magically inert. It has a number of interesting interactions, which are traditionally represented by the table below (figure four). This useful table was designed by Newton, and arranges the various metals of the Iron Family according to their magical properties. Arithmetical Stability and Alchemical Potential are represented by the horizontal placement of the metals, as they exist in an inverse relationship. The vertical placement represents Corrosive Power and Transformative Resistance, which are also inversely related. As can be seen, iron is the root of the table, with the highest Alchemical Potential and lowest Arithmetical Stability (though overall, the Iron Family is generally stable). It can also be easily seen why Lead is considered the most challenging base for alchemical processes, situated as it is in the bottom right._

The book then went into a chapter by chapter description of each of the Iron metals, which Alex had already read. That wasn't what she was interested in today. She turned to _The Arithmancer's Atlas_ and flipped it open to chapter nine - _Arithmetical Stability_.

_It has long been understood that certain arithmetical values are more powerful than others. The numbers five, seven and thirteen are highly magical numbers. The arithmetical value of Gold is seven - widely considered the most powerful number - and it is no coincidence that Gold is able to resist all but the most potent magics. The feared Cruciatus curse has the value of thirteen, and is the most powerful normal curse in existence. And the Patronus Charm has a value of five._

_What is recent knowledge, however, is where these values come from, and why some should be more powerful than others. For a long time they were considered basic constituents of the universe and arithmancers busied themselves with the task of description: investigating and arguing over the values of things, and drawing up tables of their interactions. And indeed, this work was - and is - very important. However, at the turn of the 19th century a whole new branch of Arithmancy came into being, pioneered by James Sephen_. _This was when true Arithmancy was born: the studies of those before are now properly classified as Numerology._

_Sephen's new arithmancy looked deeper than Numerology. It started asking 'why': why is it that some numbers are more powerful than others, and how do things come to possess these values? These questions continue to be studied today, but we have gained enough knowledge to attempt to sketch a general picture._

_Arithmetical values are far from basic. If anything, the Numerologists were standing on their heads: it is not that arithmetical values dictate the complex behaviour of entities, but rather that entities exhibit complex behaviour, and arithmetical values describe, or summarise, this behaviour. Beneath every arithmetical value exists a complex series of relations which produce the value._

_To understand why some numbers are more magical than others depends on these relations. A new concept was developed: arithmetical stability. Some entities are volatile: they react to magic easily, or possess powerful magical properties of their own. It is in their nature to change, and this often makes them harder to predict. They possess connections and interrelations with many other entities. These entities are described as having low arithmetical stability. Silver is an example a substance with low arithmetical stability; wizards and witches also have low arithmetical stability. Highly stable arithmetical entities, on the other hand, often resist magic, or corrode it. They might be described as willful: they try to remain as they are, and resist external influence._

_The stability of an entity has a significant effect on its arithmetical value (though it is not the only factor). Recent research suggests that the most stable entities will always possess prime values, whereas the most volatile entities will have many factors. This, finally, partly explains the power of numbers such as seven, which are..._

Alex put the book down, thinking. Everything she'd read about iron began to fall into place. Iron resisted her spell because it had high arithmetical stability: it wanted to remain itself. That's why increasing the power of the spell allowed her to force it: her power overcame the iron's resistance. But the key question remained: how could she get around the iron's resistance without overpowering it?

She flipped back through _Iron Will _as she thought, not really reading - just skimming over the words, searching for inspiration. A paragraph caught her eye:

_...as noted, the arithmetical value of pure iron is nine. Figure twenty eight is a partial table of substances with which iron readily alloys. As can be seen, Distilled Air reacts the most willingly with iron: its arithmetical value is 3. Carbon is the next on the list, and has an arithmetical value of ninety nine. In fact, all substances which readily alloy with iron will have a complementary arithmetical value. The ease of alloy is described by the following formula..._

That was it, Alex thought. Though it was arithmetically stable, iron didn't _always_try to remain itself. There were some substances which could change it - those substances which had a complementary value. So to transfigure iron, all she had to do was make sure her spell also had a complementary arithmetical value?

She took the idea further: she didn't want to make an alloy, like in the book. She didn't need a complementary value - using the exact same value as iron would be best.

Excited, Alex hurried over to one of the wood cylinders. It wasn't fresh, she noticed, but covered with the evidence of previous students' efforts. Malformed animals decorated the wood like tiny gargoyles, sticking out of the sides. And on the top, right in the centre, the wood was shaped into a mug. _That'll do_.

"_Ferro Verto_," said Alex, her hand going through the familiar spell automatically. She cast it as she had done a hundred times before: same incantation, same wand motions. But this time, she understood the spell differently.

This time, the wood in front of her turned a dark, metallic grey. Iron.

"Yes!" said Alex, doing a little jig on the spot. She touched the now-metal cup. It was definitely iron. _Awesome_! Now all she had to do was to transfer the same process to the rest of the Iron Family and she'd be able to Transfigure any Iron metal.

The cup reverted to wood.

_Well, that was quick_, Alex thought, but she wasn't too surprised. She wasn't so arrogant as to think her first attempt would be a true Transfiguration. It did little to dampen her mood. She'd crossed the hurdle now - she'd been able to make the metal, properly. Now she just had to get better at it.

_I can't wait to show Susan_, Alex thought, before remembering. She sighed. She couldn't avoid Hufflepuff forever. _Now's a good a time as ever_.

She gathered her books and managed to extinguish the candles as she'd lit them: by putting one of them out. She left the workshop to find Hagrid gone. The setting sun filled the sky with an orange glow, and she walked slowly back towards the castle, enjoying the view. She entered through the Astronomy Tower before heading for Hufflepuff. The corridors were deserted, and Alex wondered where everyone was - surely it wasn't dinner time yet? She checked her watch - no, she still had an hour before food.

A group of 5th years were loitering by the Hufflepuff entrance, each of them holding a bottle of Butterbeer. _Where did they get it from? _One of them spotted her and laughed.

"Hey Potter!" called a dark haired boy. She didn't know his name, but he was a lot taller than her, and heavily built too. "How's the yeast?"

For a moment Alex was completely confused, before realising: it must've been something she said that morning. Her face heated up and her jaw clenched. Daphne was going to pay. Next week, next month, next year - eventually, she'd regret it.

She stroked the banana and went in. Jaunty music met her ears, and more people were in the entrance room, also holding Butterbeer. _A party!_ For the Quidditch, she supposed. _I'll find Susan first, then the Butterbeer. She has to be around here somewhere._

The Winter room was full, but Susan wasn't there - nor was she in the dancing hall, where the main party was. There were tables of food and drinks, and an enchanted gramophone playing the music. Some people were even dancing, though it wasn't catching on. Alex resisted the urge to grab a Butterbeer.

She found Susan in the stone garden, standing alone by the railing, looking out over the lake. With the sun reflecting off the water it was a truly beautiful sight.

"Hi," said Alex, standing next to her. She didn't have a drink either, Alex noticed. And her eyes were suspiciously red.

Susan glanced at her, before looking back to the lake.

"Where've _you _been?" she said to the lake. "Off with your new boyfriend, I suppose."

"No!" Alex said - she hadn't even thought of that. "Draco went back to Slytherin with Nott. I went to check out the workshop - it's pretty cool, I don't know why no-one uses it..."

"Maybe because they're spending time with their _friends_," said Susan, still not looking at Alex.

Alex bit her lip. This wasn't going right.

"Susan," she said, "I - er - if I've done something bad, I, well, I'm sorry."

Alex wasn't very good with 'sorry'. She always had to say sorry for things other people were doing and it wasn't fair. But Susan was her best friend.

"If?" said Susan, and now she _did _look at Alex. Alex immediately wished she hadn't - it wasn't until now that she realised just how angry, how hurt, Susan was. The look she was giving Alex was one of pure betrayal. "If? You know exactly what you did."

Alex swallowed. They'd never spoken of Draco. How could Susan know that she knew?

"I don't know what you-"

"You said yes to Draco! Even though you _knew_ I liked him. Don't even try to deny it - I know you knew. You never said it, but it was obvious. I'm not _stupid_."

"I never said you were stupid," said Alex.

"No, you just thought it, didn't you?" said Susan. "You think it about everyone. I saw how you treated Hermione. You were a complete bitch."

If anyone else had said it, Alex might have brushed it off. She might have traded insults, and enjoyed it. But this was _Susan_. Her best friend. Alex blinked back the beginning of tears. Why was Susan being so mean? They weren't even talking about Draco anymore. She tried to get back to the important point.

"But Susan... okay, suppose I _did_ know that you like Draco. What was I supposed to do - not go out with him? Then this would just be the other way around - we can't _both _have him."

"You don't even like him!" said Susan, her voice slightly wail-like. "That's the worst part! You're just with him to get at Hermione!"

"I do like him!" said Alex. "He's my Herbology partner."

"Your _Herbology_ partner?" said Susan, "Alex, I _love _him!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Alex said, "you barely speak to him!"

The moment she said it Alex knew she'd messed up. Susan gasped, and stepped back.

"I didn't mean that!" Alex said quickly, but it was too late.

"You're a complete bitch, you know that?" said Susan.

"Susan-"

"Just go away, Alex."

Alex bit her lip. She wouldn't get anywhere like this. She'd say sorry again in the morning, after they'd slept on it. But for now, talking more would just make things worse.

"Okay," she said, and turned back to the party.

Only now, Butterbeer didn't seem so important.


	10. A Woman's Weapons

**Alexandra Potter**

By Taure

_Chapter Ten: A Woman's Weapons_

Alex woke the next morning to find Susan gone, her bed made and bag missing. For a moment Alex feared she'd overslept, but a quick glance at her watch told her it was only seven o'clock. And anyway, the others were still in bed.

_Maybe I'll be able to talk to her in Charms_, Alex thought as she headed for the bathroom, but it was not to be. As soon as they entered the classroom Susan found a seat between Hannah and Megan. Then, when the class ended, the three of them hurried out before Alex could reach them. _Great. Now Hannah and Megan are avoiding me too_._ If I could just speak to her!_

But at lunch Draco called her over and she had to eat with his friends, missing Susan once more. In fact, by the time her detention came around that evening, Alex hadn't been able to speak one word to Susan all day. And with Dumbledore taking over her dinner time, it didn't look like she'd get another chance.

With Susan avoiding her, Alex was forced to get ready for her detention alone. It was surprisingly difficult: what did one wear to dinner with Albus Dumbledore? He'd been rather vague about how formal a dinner it was, but something about the way he'd said it - and the fact that it was a detention - made Alex feel that turning up in jeans and an under-robe would not be appropriate.

So she relocated to the bathroom with an armful of robes and her small collection of makeup, purchased in Hogsmeade the previous weekend. An hour later the bathroom was in such a state as to give House Elves nightmares: the floor was covered with discarded robes, and one of the sinks was cluttered with hair clips and pins, makeup brushes and combs.

_Almost done_.

She was wearing one of her nicest robes: a slim black dress, sleeveless but with a high neck. Lily had called it fuddy-duddy when she bought it, as it went down all the way to her ankles, but Alex liked it. If you looked close enough you could see it wasn't as plain as it looked: it was actually made of two different blacks, forming a detailed flowery pattern.

She had black shoes to match: toeless, they had a bit of a heel to them. She put them on carefully, trying not to disturb her hair, which she'd put up in a high bun. Though it was secured with Madam Pein's Ever-Holding Hair Grips, she'd gone and made it deliberately messy, with odd strands of hair coming loose from the bun. _Hopefully Madam Pein's pins will live up to their name._

Unfortunately, she'd had to abandon the makeup after a bad first attempt at eye shadow made her look like a whore. Instead, she'd just reddened her lips, darkened the skin over her eyes slightly, and brought a bit of colour up to her cheeks, before using a tiny amount of the expensive glitter Lily had shown her.

Finally, she was ready.

"What do you think?" she said, turning one way and the other, trying to see her back. _I look so grown-up_.

"Meow," said Dumbledore from inside the sleeve of a discarded robe. He'd thoroughly enjoyed dress-up time, apparently deciding that any robe on the floor was meant for him to roll around in.

"You're right," Alex said, biting her lip. "It's too much, isn't it?"

"Meow," said Dumbledore again. Alex sighed.

"Oh well, it's too late now." She looked at her watch. "Oh my goodness! I have to be there in fifteen minutes!"

She hurried out of the bathroom with no small amount of wobbling, unused to walking in heels. _These are the most annoying shoes I've ever worn_. She didn't have time to put everything away properly, so it all got dumped in a pile on her bed. _I'll sort it out later_.

She felt rather self-conscious as she left the dorms - half of her wanted to slip out without being seen, but another half secretly hoped that someone would see her all dressed up. In the end she didn't have to worry: with everyone at dinner, Hufflepuff was practically deserted. She headed straight for Dumbledore's office.

"Mars Bar," she said to the gargoyle - Professor Sprout had given the password to her at lunch. She went up the stairs and knocked on the huge oak door.

It opened to reveal Dumbledore as Alex had never seen him. Gone were the bright colours and flamboyant patterns: this Dumbledore wore stately robes of black, with a blood red trim.

"Good evening, Lady Potter," he said, gesturing for her to come inside. The office was more or less the same as before - with one difference. A circular table had been placed in the centre. It was covered with a white cloth and had been set for dinner, with a candle and bottle of wine in the centre. She was suddenly very glad that she'd taken the time to dress up.

"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore," she said nervously, looking around.

"My compliments on your dress. A most sophisticated choice," he said, leading Alex to the table; she realised there weren't any chairs. Before she could say anything, Dumbledore flicked his wand and she felt a chair nudging the back of her knees. She sat, and allowed the chair to wiggle her into place. "Incidentally, as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and a member of the Privy Council, it would be correct to address me as 'Lord Dumbledore' in formal situations."

Alex blushed, looking nervously at all the different kinds of forks around her setting. How many mistakes was she going to make?

"Sorry, Lord Dumbledore," she said. _If I make mistakes I'll make them. But I won't make them twice._

"Only the first time you address me," he said as he too sat. "A conversation would be far too cluttered with all those titles floating around, don't you think? After the first time 'sir' is sufficient."

Alex nodded.

"Of course the same applies to yourself," he continued, "I should address you thereafter as 'ma'am'. Though as my student and a minor, the situation is somewhat more complicated. Now, do you drink wine?"

"No, sir," Alex said. The Dursleys didn't like wine, and she wouldn't have been offered it anyway. Not that she felt any particular desire - she'd had a sip of Vernon's beer once, and it was disgusting.

"Well, it is time for you to start," said Dumbledore, vanishing the cork with his wand. "Hogwarts has a large collection of both Muggle and wizarding wines. This one is Muggle made - a particularly fine vintage from France. 1845 - the year of my birth." He smiled at his little joke, and poured her a small amount, not even filling her glass a third. The dark red liquid looked nice enough. "Go on, take a sip."

She picked up the glass and sipped. Her mouth rebelled at the bitter taste - it was absolutely terrible. But with Dumbledore watching her, she couldn't spit it out. Grimacing, she swallowed, longing for some water to wash it down.

Dumbledore chuckled. "It is an acquired taste. But I foresee many formal dinners in your future, and the ability to drink wine without that grimace will be an important skill."

"It's not exactly what I thought I'd be learning at Hogwarts," said Alex, putting the wine back down. There wasn't any water - it was wine or nothing. She'd just have to go thirsty. "Speaking of learning, can I ask some questions about Old English?"

"_May I_," corrected Dumbledore, "and I would be happy to answer any questions you might have. But first: starters." Dumbledore clapped and a plate appeared in front of Alex. The portion was tiny: three circular towers in a row, each consisting of a green paste, a black layer and a white layer on top. "Ah, excellent!" said Dumbledore, and Alex gave him a questioning look. She wasn't sure how to ask "what is it?" without sounding rude.

"Scallops," Dumbledore said, interpreting her look correctly, and he picked up the knife and fork second from the end. "With black pudding and a mint pea purée. Normally served with a white wine, but I think we may break protocol - on this occasion. It would be most irresponsible of me to get a student drunk, after all." He gave her a wink.

Alex smiled and copied him. She had no idea what scallops were, but they were delicious. Some kind of fish, but quite sweet. She wished there were more than three of them - she had to eat very slowly just to stop them from disappearing too fast.

"Now, you have some questions about Old English?"

"Just a couple," she said. Dumbledore gestured for her to go on. "Well, the book I have keeps talking about strong and weak verbs, but, well, I have no idea what it's talking about. It doesn't explain it anywhere - they just assume you know!"

"A common problem with books," said Dumbledore, "especially the more academic ones. The authors, so specialised in their area, often forget what is and isn't common knowledge. Nonetheless, in this case, the explanation is quite simple. The key is how the verb forms the past - or preterite - tense. If the verb ending inflects then it is a weak verb. If the stem of the verb itself changes, then it is a strong verb."

"Oh," said Alex. She'd thought it would be a lot more complicated than that. It was easy! "Thanks." She took another tiny bite.

"I imagine," said Dumbledore, "that you've encountered a certain amount of difficulty in locating suitable books, yes?"

Alex nodded. "Yes," she said. "The language section in the library is big, but none of it is really meant for learning on your own."

"Indeed. After this dinner, I shall lend you a book from my personal collection which I think you will find most enlightening."

"That'd be great, thank you," said Alex.

"And how are your other classes?" asked Dumbledore, sipping his wine.

"Oh, very good," said Alex. Her mind went to how boring her history classes were, but she didn't bring it up. _Not the time nor the place._ "Transfiguration is my favourite, but Charms is good too."

"And Master Veigel?" said Dumbledore.

"Not bad," said Alex. "His English is getting loads better. And his classes are always very... practical."

"Oh?" said Dumbledore. "Do I detect a hint of dissatisfaction?"

"Well, like I said, the classes aren't _bad_. And it _is_ fun, learning new spells all the time. But... I don't really feel like I've learned much, you know? Just a collection of spells." She paused, and grinned. "I think I'm the only one who feels that way, though. All the others love him."

"You have good instincts," said Dumbledore. "It is far better to have mastered one spell - to truly understand it, right to its roots - than it is to have a basic familiarity with a large repertoire. It is for this reason that Hogwarts students learn relatively few spells in their early years here. You are digging a foundation, deep and wide. Then, later, it will be easy for you to build on that foundation."

They finished their starters, and their plates disappeared. Dumbledore clapped once more, and new plates appeared – the main course. The food was, once again, delicately presented. Some kind of tiny chicken, glistening with golden brown skin, was sitting on a bed of creamy mashed potato, with vegetables arranged in a circle around it. _Nowhere near enough gravy_, Alex thought the moment she saw it. But still, it looked delicious.

Though she didn't like it, she sipped at her wine again, waiting for Dumbledore to start so she could copy his cutlery selection. It was a good thing she did, as he seemed to pick them entirely at random. _I always thought you worked your way from the outside in_, Alex thought. But apparently it was much more complicated.

"You may be interested to know that Flora Darlington has been given a three day suspension," said Dumbledore as she began carving at her bird. Alex almost cut herself in surprise.

"What? How come?" she said. She'd _told_ him - it wasn't Flora's fault.

"Hogwarts takes a hard policy on the use of the Dark Arts, Alex. You should not underestimate the severity of the prank played upon you - without access to one as skilled in Healing as Professor Snape, you could have been stuck like that for your entire life."

"My whole life?" she said. She imagined, briefly, never being able to speak again. "I didn't know it was so... permanent."

"Permanency is the hallmark of the Dark Arts - that is why we take their use so seriously. When you cast Dark Magic, you are committing yourself entirely to a course of action. Often there is no going back."

A thought occurred to Alex as she tried one of the tiny, perfectly cut carrots. They were surprisingly sweet. "But... doesn't that make Transfiguration a form of Dark magic? True Transfiguration, I mean."

"Ah. I can see why you would think that. But no - true Transfiguration, while permanent in that it will not undo itself, is not _truly_ permanent. A skilled witch or wizard can still reverse the transformation."

"But there _are_ Dark Transfigurations, aren't there?" said Alex. Dumbledore gave her a piercing look. _Is it just me, or is it really hot in here?_

"Indeed," said Dumbledore, sighing. He was oddly sombre. "Such magic is called Transmogrification. It is natural, Alex, for a witch such as yourself to be curious about these things. But please: be very careful where such curiosity leads you. You may end up paying a price you did not expect."

Alex shifted in her seat. She was beginning to sweat, and her tummy was flipping uncomfortably. She'd lost all hunger completely. In fact, as she thought about it more, she began to feel slightly nauseous. Alex looked at her food. Five minutes ago it had looked so attractive. Now the thought of putting another forkful in her mouth made her feel dizzy. _Was it the wine? Am I drunk?_

She took the smallest bite she possibly could - a tiny nibble, really - and tried to distract herself by talking.

"I went down to the workshop, yesterday," she said, trying to keep her breathing under control. _I will not throw up on Albus Dumbledore_.

"Indeed?" said Dumbledore, who appeared to be watching her with some concern. "I don't think a student has used that place for actual Transfiguration for over thirty years - not since poor Bertie Haverhill accidentally transfigured himself a wooden leg."

_I will not throw up on Albus Dumbledore_. Was her heart beating harder than normal?

"It was very dirty," she said, struggling to focus. "But also very-" The room span, and she had to put her fork down.

"My girl, are you quite all right?" said Dumbledore, leaning forward.

"I'm not feeling too good," said Alex. The beat of her heart was getting louder. She could _feel_ it in her ears. In her jaw.

Dumbledore sat back in his chair.

"Yes," he said. He looked utterly calm. Cheerful, even. "That would be the poison I put in your carrots."

It was a sign on Alex's mental state that at first she only nodded in agreement. But then his words caught up with her.

"What?" she said, and she tried to stand up. The room span once more; her knees gave way, sending her back into her chair. "I – I don't understand."

"It is quite simple," said Dumbledore, not moving. His eyes never left Alex. "I laced your carrots with _Charlotte's Revenge_. You are currently experiencing nausea, dizziness, weakness in your limbs, palpitations and fever. In two minutes your heart will stop beating."

The room was getting blurry now, and Dumbledore's words barely registered. _I'm dying? _Her breathing quickened further. _I don't want to die._

"Why?" she said – though it came out more as a sob.

Dumbledore stood up. _I don't want to die_. "Ms Darlington's prank revealed a rather significant flaw in your protections," he said, coming around the table to place a hand on the back of Alex's chair. Alex tried to look up at him, or to reach for her wand, but she had lost her coordination entirely. _Please, oh god, I don't want to die. _"A potentially fatal flaw."

But Alex wasn't listening, now. Everything was spinning, blurry. She was so hot. Her stomach lurched, and she felt herself throw up.

"Oh dear," said Dumbledore, and everything went black.

The word returned with vivid clarity. She was clear headed; her heart was fine.

"I do, of course, have the antidote," said Dumbledore, peering down at her. She was still sitting in the chair. _Did I throw up?_ If she had, there was no evidence of it. In fact, there was very little evidence of anything – she felt fine. More or less.

"How do you feel?" said Dumbledore.

"Tired," said Alex, looking up at him with a mixture of fear and thanks. "Relieved."

Dumbledore nodded to himself, before picking up Alex's fork and spearing a carrot with it.

"Here. Try the carrot," he said. Alex gaped at him.

"But-"

"- it is laced with poison, yes. But I have the antidote. Now, try the carrot."

Alex looked between Dumbledore and the carrot, glistening innocently before her. She'd trusted him so far. _He doesn't want to kill me_, she thought.

She took the fork and, gingerly, bit into the carrot.

"How does it taste?" said Dumbledore.

"Like a carrot," said Alex. "Sweet."

"Sweeter than a normal carrot?" said Dumbledore.

Alex thought about it. "I guess," she said. She started to sweat. "Can I have the antidote?"

Dumbledore produced a thin vial from his sleeve. "Stick out your tongue," he said. He allowed a single drop to fall and she felt instantly better. Dumbledore returned to his side of the table. "Today you imbibed _Charlotte's Revenge_. Should you ever feel these symptoms again following a sweet food, you will have less than four minutes to take the antidote."

Alex licked her lips. Would someone really try to kill her?

"I would prefer to not to eat it in the first place," she said, sitting up properly. To her disbelief, she found that she was hungry once more. Starving, in fact.

"Indeed," said Dumbledore, and he started to eat, as if nothing had happened. "Regretfully, we must remember who you are. When it comes to assassination attempts, it is not so much a matter of _if_ as _when_."

Alex stared at him for a moment, before looking at her own food. _I guess if I avoid the carrots it'll be fine._ She took up a different fork and took a large forkful of potato.

"There is one last task I would like you to perform," said Dumbledore as she chewed. _Please don't make it be more poison_. "Please smell the carrot."

_Just smell? Well, that isn't so bad._ She picked up the half eaten carrot and brought it to her nose. Dumbledore waited patiently - it took her a moment to get it.

"Lavender?" she said, not quite sure.

"Exactly," said Dumbledore. "_Charlotte's Revenge_ smells slightly of lavender. You can use this knowledge to avoid the need for an antidote."

"Oh," said Alex, putting the carrot down. "That's good to know." _Why couldn't he have just told me that?_ A thought occurred to her. "But aren't there loads of poisons? How is knowing just one going to help?"

Dumbledore smiled. There was something predatory about it, Alex thought. Something dangerous.

"I had a remarkably similar thought," he said. "And so, for the foreseeable future you will be eating dinner with me. Each day I shall place a poison in your food. You must endeavor to avoid the poison - or at the very least, identify it the moment you ingest it."

Alex didn't reply - it wasn't like he was giving her a choice. _But what about my friends?_

"We will continue until you are able to successfully avoid the worst poisons. Of course we can't cover all of them, but we can, at the least, protect you against those which kill the quickest."

"I don't know anything about poisons," Alex said. It wasn't fair - without any preparation, she'd just eat poison after poison. One near-death experience was quite enough for Alex.

Dumbledore waved his wand, and a thin book sailed off one of his shelves, gliding over to land softly next to Alex. The green leather cover bore no title, nor author. She flipped it open and was surprised to find that it was handwritten. _Poisons_, the first page declared plainly, and it went straight into explanation - no contents, no introduction.

"You will read this book as quickly as possible," he said. "But at no point shall you attempt to brew the contents. Nor will you share the book with anyone else - or even let them know of its existence. Do you give your word to this effect?"

"I promise," said Alex. She wouldn't let him down. She turned back to the book and leafed through the pages under Dumbledore's watchful eye. It was immediately obvious that the knowledge within was the kind normally housed in the Restricted Section. It didn't just talk _about_ the poisons. It gave exact instructions on how to make them, and even suggestions on their delivery.

"Time for dessert, I think," said Dumbledore, and the their main course disappeared. "I believe you were about to tell me about the wonders of our workshop."

And so it went. Every night Alex would dress up and head for Dumbledore's office like a prisoner to be hanged, dreading the meal to come. And every night Dumbledore would poison her - often a new poison, but sometimes one he had used before.

More often than not, she would eat the poison. It didn't help that Dumbledore wouldn't let her inspect the food properly.

"You won't be able to sniff at everything at a Ministry Ball, or even in the Great Hall," he said, the first time she spent five minutes smelling her cabbage. "You must learn to detect these things more subtly. Take your time while eating. Drink some wine, engage in conversation. And all the time, pay attention to your senses."

Alex read the book on poisons cover to cover, and then she read it again. Being poisoned every night was a powerful motivator: it took over her life. Though she remained diligent in all her classes, her other reading was put aside in favour of books on Potions and poisons. On some days she even forgot about her argument with Susan, who continued to ignore her. The only people she spoke to beyond a simple "good morning" were Lily and Draco - and even then, she often cut their conversations short to go and study.

All that study worked: to Alex's great surprise, she began to get better. At first it had seemed so impossible - how on earth was she meant to look out for so many different scents, so many different tastes and changes in colour? And do it all while appearing to eat normally? But what had seemed a bewildering mass of information slowly became something more instinctive. She detected her first poison _before_ eating it near the end of October, two weeks after they had started. And, when Dumbledore surprised her by poisoning her wine on November 6th, she had gone three days without almost dying.

The Headmaster stretched her in other ways too. One day she turned up only to be greeted with a cheerful "intrate!". Dinner that evening was conducted entirely in Latin, and Alex was so busy muttering conjugations under her breath that she forgot about the poison completely. Half an hour later she was frothing from the mouth as _Regis Fata_ took effect.

An inadvertent side effect of all those dinners was that she learnt all about fine dining. It only took a couple of weeks for her to get used to cutlery selection, and she'd been introduced to so many foods she'd never known existed. If she hadn't been so worried about dying, she might have even enjoyed it - though she still had no great love for red wine.

A fortnight into November, Dumbledore announced the end of her training.

"I must say, Alex, you've learnt this far quicker than I expected," he said as they began dessert. The butter with their bread had been mixed with _Liar's Salt_, and the white wine showed signs of Mongolian lemon.

Alex let her fork slide into her Humble Pie, but didn't go in for a bite. She let the smell of the pie fill her nose while she pretended to sip some wine. _Rose. In... the cream - it's slightly pink. Not falling for that one again._

"Well, I had a good teacher," she said after carefully sliding the cherries from the edge. They were suspiciously wrinkled - a classic sign of Hag's spit. _He's gone all out today_._ Is there anything here I can actually eat?_ "Would you like my cherries?" she asked. "I've never liked them."

Dumbledore smiled, and it filled Alex with pride. She'd learnt something of Dumbledore's different smiles, by now. Sometimes he smiled like you were a pet entertaining its owner. Other times he smiled when he was annoyed. But this smile - this one was for when he was actually impressed. "No thank you, my girl. I think I have enough of my own."

It wasn't long before the pie was finished and their dinner ended.

"Tomorrow, I think, you may return to eating dinner in the Great Hall," said Dumbledore. "I'm sure your friends have been eagerly awaiting your return."

Alex wasn't too sure about that. Lily and Draco remained the only friends she had, and neither of them filled the gap Susan had left. In truth, she would miss her dinners with Dumbledore - poison and all.

"I have your books," she said, and she put the book on poisons on the table, along with a couple of others he'd lent her along the way. A flick of his wand and they returned to the shelves. A brief silence followed. "Thank you for doing this for me," she said, looking at her bowl. It didn't take a genius to figure out Dumbledore was a very busy man.

"It was my pleasure, Alex," said Dumbledore. "I believe I shall miss your company. But young ladies should not spend all their evenings locked up in a tower. It is time for you to return to normality. To think of things other than death and assassination."

"It _would_ be nice to read something other than potions," said Alex. "But what will everyone say?"

"A cover story has been arranged. You have recently recovered from Gibbon's Gripe - a particularly nasty transmissible hex, no doubt picked up in Hogsmeade one day. I have arranged for the Obliviation of any who have seen you walking to and from my office in the evenings, so you needn't worry about that. As far as the school is concerned, you have spent every dinner in the Hospital Wing being fed all manner of disgusting potions."

_Not so far from the truth_, Alex thought.

"That would explain all the potions books, too..." she said.

"Yes," said Dumbledore, and it occurred to Alex that he had, of course, thought it through quite thoroughly. He stood up, and Alex followed suit. "Well, Alex," he said as he showed her to the door, "for the last time - for now - I wish you goodnight."

* * *

That Saturday Alex lunched with Draco at the Slytherin table.

"And father just sat there!" said Draco, pausing his story to act out an imperious expression. The Slytherins loved it - more than one was wiping a tear from their eye. "Salazar got him right in the cheek, but he acted like he didn't notice - he just kept talking about werewolves or whatever."

"He didn't get rid of it?" said Nott, a short boy with a rat-like, pinched look about him.

"Nope," said Draco, grinning. "Minister Fudge was sitting right next to him, and you could see he was staring at it, nodding away at everything father was saying."

Alex giggled - she supposed you had to have met Lucius Malfoy to really get the joke - and took a bite of her sandwich, savouring the taste. Though her dinners with Dumbledore were over, the habits remained. She ate much slower now. It almost embarrassed her, to think of the way she used to just shovel it in. But that was the way things were done in the Dursley household.

"You want to come down with us to the Whomping Willow?" said Draco as they finished. _How dull_, Alex thought. The Whomping Willow was his favourite place to hang out. Sometimes they would just sit there and hold hands, pulling at grass and talking about not much.

It wasn't that she disliked Draco - not at all. He was interesting, and nice. Hanging out with him was always perfectly pleasant. But she couldn't help feel like she was wasting her time, whenever they just sat around and talked. _Honestly, how can he be so happy doing nothing?_

"I think I might get started on a new book," she said. She'd taken _A Maid's Companion_ out of the library. Despite the less-than-enticing title, the contents were interesting enough: a rather detailed guide to all manner of cleaning Charms. It was much better than the appendix to their Charms textbook. Alex hoped that when she was finished she could make the workshop a bit more habitable.

"Alright," said Draco. He didn't seem too put out. "I'll see you later?"

Alex nodded and he kissed her on the cheek before leaving with Nott. She went straight to Hufflepuff House when they were gone. _I wonder if Susan's around_, she thought as she entered, and she didn't go directly to the dorms as she'd intended. She decided to take the long way around.

The girls were in the Winter room, huddled around one of the tables in the corner, playing a new card game. Alex waved and walked over. Hannah and Susan glanced at each other.

"Hi Alex!" Lily said, looking up from her fistful of cards. Apparently she was losing. "You want to join? You can help me this round - we'll deal you in next round."

"I'd love to," she said, pulling out a chair next to Lily. _I can't believe I used to think she was mean_.

"Actually," said Hannah, glancing at her watch, "we still haven't had lunch. We really should be going before they stop serving."

Alex looked at her watch - lunch was open for another hour. Susan and Hannah stood up, leaving their cards.

"You coming, Megan?" said Susan. Megan hesitated, but only for a moment. Alex knew she'd made her decision weeks ago.

"Another time, maybe," said Alex. _Who do they think they're kidding?_

Susan gave her a brittle smile. "Sure," she said, and they scurried off, leaving Alex alone with Lily.

"You know," said Lily, staring at the door through which they left, "this is getting fucking immature. It's been a month already - Susan needs to get over it."

"I don't really think she's angry anymore," said Alex, flipping over the cards, trying to work out the game, "it's just... things are stuck like this. And I'll be damned if I'm going to apologise again. I've apologised enough, you know?"

"No one needs to apologise for anything," said Lily, looking at what the other girls had held. "Damn. I could've dumped all my cards on Hannah next round."

"Can you play with two?" Alex said. She could spare thirty minutes before getting down to reading.

"Nah," said Lily. "I'm kinda sick of it, anyway. You want to go swimming?"

That actually sounded really good. Though she'd been at Hogwarts for months now, she still hadn't used the pool.

"Sure," Alex said, and got up to get her costume.

"Hang on - where're you going?" said Lily when Alex headed for the stairs. "The pool's this way."

"Er - I have to get my swimming costume," said Alex. "Do you already have yours?"

Lily looked at her for a moment as if she was absolutely insane, before bursting into delighted laughter. "It's true!" she said, wiping a tear from her eye, "Muggles wear costumes when they swim! Do they dress up like fish, thinking it'll help them float?"

Alex didn't know if she should be insulted by that. Of course _she_ wasn't a Muggle - but she was raised as one. What kind of ridiculous things did wizards believe about her?

"It's not really like that..." she began, before deciding it was a lost cause. Maybe she could show Lily later. But for now... "witches don't wear anything when they swim?"

"Of course not!" said Lily, "now come on!"

It shouldn't have surprised her, really, after everything she'd seen. The girls showed little concern for nakedness in their dorm - no one ever worried about getting changed, or even wandering back from the shower.

It was something that took some adjusting to. When Alex had first arrived she would get dressed as quickly as possible, laying out all her clothes on her bed before she started. And when she went to have a shower, she would always make sure she was firmly wrapped in a towel. But Susan and Lily and Hannah treated getting changed like a social event, filled with interruptions and conversations.

So, slowly, Alex had joined their conversations. She began to take her time getting changed, asking for advice on what to wear, and getting advice in return. She'd still do her hair in the bathroom alone, but that was more because she wanted to keep her metamorphmagus powers a secret - for now. She had no particular reason for doing so - but she thought that, in the absence of any compelling reason to tell, she might as well keep the secret. Once it was told she couldn't take it back, after all.

They went to the pool by the stone garden, entering through the tunnel. Alex gasped as she passed under the dry waterfall.

"I forgot how cold it was!" she said, looking around. They were alone. _Thank god_. Being naked around Lily was one thing; strangers were quite another. _Imagine if there were boys here!_

At least it was dark inside, lit by what Alex now recognised as luminous Scandinavian Fairies: much smaller and less mischievous than their British cousins, they were about the size of a common fly. They made a low humming sound as they floated, just about audible over the gentle splashing of the water. The waterfall was a quiet one - little more than a rippling sheet of glass covering the tunnel entrance. After hitting the ground the water was channeled into a natural gutter, passing along the wall into a high pool on the far side, where it overflowed in a second fall into the main pool.

Lily started pulling her robes off without ceremony, dumping them on the damp stone. With a last nervous look to the entrance Alex joined her. As soon as she was naked she jumped off the walkway.

_SPLASH!_

"Oh my god!" Alex shouted when she surfaced. "It's freezing!"

_SPLASH!_

Lily jumped in with a high pitched squeal.

"Fuck!" she shouted. "Why the hell is it so cold? Haven't they heard of the warming Charm?"

"My wand's on the ledge!" said Alex, wishing she'd thought to apply one.

"We'll just have to warm up the Muggle way!" said Lily, "race you to the other side!" She burst into a crawl.

"Hey! No fair!" said Alex, before launching herself after her.

The cavern was a lot bigger than she'd thought, with arches in the walkway which divided it in two. There were all sorts of nooks and crannies, too, and around the plunge pool was a semi-circle of large, flat rocks sticking out of the water. They formed a sequence of stepping stones, and a set of stairs was carved into the rock where they met the wall , leading back up to the walkway above.

It'd been ages since Alex had swum, but she used to go several times a week. She overtook Lily easily and beat her to the rocks.

"Figures," said Lily when she caught up a few seconds later. "Is there anything you're not good at?"

"Drawing," said Alex with a grin - Lily wasn't really upset. "I never really advanced past stick figures."

"How're you with water fights?" said Lily, before launching an armful of water at Alex.

"Ahh!" Alex screamed, some water making it up her nose. "You'll regret that!" she said. She turned and swam away - making sure to kick up as much water as possible, completely covering Lily and her screams.

Before long they were treading water again, panting as they caught their breath..

"Truce?" said Lily, watching Alex's hands for any sign of renewed warfare.

"Truce," said Alex, who was doing the same

"So how's everything with Draco?" said Lily.

"Oh, you know," said Alex. She didn't particularly feel like talking about Draco. "Alright."

"Nu uh! You're not getting away with that!" said Lily, "I need details! Have you kissed yet?"

"No!" said Alex, before frowning. "Should we have?"

"Well, if it was me..." said Lily with a cheeky smile.

"I guess kissing might be nice," said Alex. She'd never kissed anyone before - at least, not a proper kiss like in the movies. "But it just hasn't seemed right."

"Maybe if you actually spent time with him," said Lily.

"I do spend time with him! I had lunch with him today!" said Alex.

"Yeah, but it's not really coupley time, is it? He needs to _court_ you."

Alex laughed at the word. "Court?" she said, "and after that we can return to my castle!"

"But the Potter's castle was destroyed centuries ago," said Lily, frowning. Alex laughed even harder.

"This is some Muggle thing, isn't it?" Lily said. She sounded rather grumpy.

"Sorry," said Alex, trying to stop giggling. "And I suppose you're right. He's my boyfriend. We should do... something. But - well, to be honest, I prefer being with my friends."

"That's what I'm saying!" said Lily. She leant backwards and entered into a gentle backstroke. "Draco's your boyfriend, but he's not really your friend, is he?" she called up at the ceiling. "You're meant to _want_ to spend time with him!"

Lily was right, Alex knew. But that didn't mean she had to like it. _If only we could be boyfriend and girlfriend but never have to actually be with each other._ She swam after Lily, copying her backstroke, and the moment she looked up she noticed something rather strange: all the fairies were following Lily. In fact, there was a Lily-shaped cloud of them hovering over her, mirroring her every movement. It lit Lily up like she was under a spotlight.

There was no way Lily hadn't seen, but she'd said nothing. _It looks like I'm not the only one with magical secrets_, Alex thought. She was insanely curious, but she knew not to ask. If Lily wanted to share she would've said something.

_Maybe there'll be something in the library about it_.

They swam another few laps before returning to the waterfall.

Lily hauled herself up onto one of the rocks. "Come on!" she said, her dark hair clinging to her shoulders. "It's warm!"

The rock was big enough for the both of them, so Alex scrambled up and joined her. Lily was right: the rock was warm, and strangely dry, like it'd been sitting in the sun for hours. Alex watched the water drip off herself - the moment it hit the stone it evaporated.

"Rhia, this is good," said Lily, lying down on her back. Alex glanced around - they were still alone. She felt rather exposed out of the water, but it _did_ look good. She lay down next to Lily, letting the warmth of the stone seep into her. "You know, I heard Daphne broke up with Ashby," said Lily.

"Oh?" said Alex, pretending not to be interested. The fairies had found Lily again and were forming into a swarm above them.

"Yup! _Apparently_ it was by mutual agreement," said Lily, "but everyone knows Daphne dumped him for Henry Talbot."

"Who?"

"Honestly, Alex! Roderick Talbot - Henry's Dad - was appointed First Lord of the Wand last week. Everyone was talking about it."

The First Lord of the Wand was an important position in the government. A role of much ceremony, over the years it had grown in power - in modern times, the First Lord of the Wand was effectively the Minister's second in command. It was also, unlike the elected position of Minister, always bestowed upon unusually formidable wizards.

"So Daphne's with Henry, now?" Alex said. The girl just went from victory to victory.

"Yeah," said Lily, "you haven't spoken to her in ages, you know. Putting down your wand?"

Alex hadn't avoided Daphne intentionally. She'd just been so busy with Dumbledore that she'd forgotten all about it. And life was so much simpler without Daphne in it. But still...

"I haven't forgotten," said Alex. The memory of that day in the Great Hall still burned inside her. Even when she was alone in her bed at night, sometimes she had to hide her face in her pillow just at the memory of how embarrassing it all was. "I'm still going to get her back."

"Good," said Lily, rolling onto her front. She had a mole on her left hip, Alex noticed, before she looked away quickly. "Everyone's saying that Daphne won. That she beat the Girl Who Lived."

Alex sat up. "She did _not_ win!" she said. "I'm just... taking my time, is all."

"Want some help?"

Alex grinned. "Well, I think a potion deserves a potion, you know? No Dark magic, of course. I don't want to get suspended like Flora. But I can't think what."

She knew, in theory, how to make a dozen poisons that would kill Daphne in minutes, _and_ all sorts of clever ways of sneaking them into her food. But all of that knowledge was useless. She didn't want to _kill_ Daphne - just humiliate her to the point of complete social destruction.

"Potions aren't my strong suit, really..." said Lily, and Alex knew it was an understatement. "I'm more of a Charms girl."

"Maybe there's a potion to give her a load of spots, or something..." said Alex, but it immediately sounded lame. She needed something that would top what Daphne had done to her. "No, not that. Well, what about-"

Alex stopped. She could hear voices. Someone was coming down the tunnel.

"- so Marshall's not got the best aim, right?" one said - a guy's voice, quite deep. "And McGonagall's turning the corner just as he competes - his hex missed Radley entirely."

"And hit McGonagall?" another said, and a group of four boys walked in, laughing. Sixth year boys. They turned to look at Alex and Lily and acknowledged them with a wave.

A sound like "eep!" escaped Alex's lips, and she practically jumped back into the cold water, her face burning. Lily just laughed and waved back.

"Now you're all wet again," said Lily as the boys started to undress. Alex's eyes went as wide as saucers and she quickly looked away - before sneaking a couple of glances back. _Interesting_. _The graffiti on the desks is completely inaccurate._ She looked at Lily, who, despite her apparent cool, had a distinct red tinge to her cheeks.

"What?" said Lily, and Alex waggled her eyebrows. Lily broke at the same time as Alex, and they giggled together, trying to keep quiet so the boys didn't notice. The boys dived in with a great crash of water. One of them let out a girlish scream when he hit, and Alex burst into full laughter.

"Well, I'm all dry!" said Lily, and she stood up to leave.

"Don't you dare!" said Alex, but Lily was already moving, hopping over to the next stone.

"I'm gonna kill you!" said Alex, and she pulled herself out of the water again. She fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest - doing that would make her stick out more than anything - and she chased after Lily, head held high. She knew the boys had seen her, but if Lily could do it then so could she. "How am I gonna get dry?" Alex called as they got to the stairs. "I can't get into my robes wet!"

"Should've thought about that, shouldn't you?" said Lily, sticking out her tongue, but when they reached their robes she picked up her wand. "I've seen my Mum do the towel Charm enough times to copy it, I think."

Alex looked at Lily's wand nervously.

"You _have_ cast this spell before, right?"

"Nope!" said Lily, "now hold still."

"- wait-"

"_Anhydra!_"

* * *

Saturday evenings at Hogwarts were dominated by a supervised homework period. Lasting from six until eight-thirty, attendance was compulsory for fifth years and below. To this end, Hogwarts possessed seven identical study halls, all located around the grand stair.

Alex and Lily entered ten minutes late, their hair still damp, but the prefect in charge didn't seem to care - he was sitting at the far end of the long, thin room, and was absorbed in his own work. Two large tables, not unlike those in the Great Hall, stretched down the room's length, and at them sat the quietly murmuring first years. While most activities were divided by House, the homework halls were divided by year group.

Hoping the prefect - Simon Taggart - didn't look up, Alex found a gap and sat, pulling out her books. She had a half-written essay on Hellebore to finish for Professor Sprout, a factfile about Ptolemy for Professor Waffling, and she wanted to try out some new ideas with her Seesaw Charm, inspired by what she'd seen in the workshop. But that would have to come last, else she wouldn't get any of her essays written - it was so easy to lose track of time when practicing spells.

So she pulled out her Herbology notebook and picked up where she left off, writing mostly from memory.

… _despite these problems with toxicity, Hellebore has many uses in Potions when properly prepared and handled. In line with Roth's Maxim of Targeted Effect, toxic substances are important ingredients in healing potions, as they act as a symbol of the malady..._

"Hey, Alex," whispered Lily, "what happens when the Tasteless Charm's combined with a Supersensory Charm?"

"Still tastes of nothing," said Alex back, not looking up from her essay. "Because of the Hierarchy of Intrinsic Qualities."

"Thanks," said Lily, scribbling everything down.

"But if the Tasteless Charm isn't well cast, the Supersensory Charm might be able to overcome it," added Alex, letting her quill stroke her cheek. "It all depends on the Decay Quotient of the spell. The Tasteless Charm has a natural satisfaction point at thirty-five Rells, so if the spell is worse than that it'll decay at a rate of-"

"Thanks, Alex," said Lily again, and Alex took the hint. She turned back to Hellebore.

… _Hellebore is a resilient plant and often a wild flower will be of high enough quality for shops. However, there are a number of steps that can be taken, if you want to increase the quality..._

She finished the essay a few minutes later and moved on to Ptolemy, unrolling a poster-sized piece of blue parchment. _CLAUDIUS_ _PTOLEMY_ was at the top in her nicest writing, and a portrait of Ptolemy was in the centre, transferred from a library book with the Rubbing Charm. It wasn't a perfect copy - his nose was a bit smudged, and it was all one colour - but it wasn't bad. Around him she'd drawn a number of thought bubbles, waiting to be occupied by facts of Ptolemy's life and work.

_Astronomy_

_Ptolemy is perhaps best known for his work in astronomy. Much of his life was spent documenting the effects of the phase of the moon on Charms. His masterpiece, Tractatus Lunae Cantaminibus, was finished in the year 145. Though all original copies were lost in the destruction of the Library of Alexandria, many fragments and partial copies survive._

After completing entries on arithmancy, astrology, and alchemy, Alex was done. She looked at her watch: seven o'clock. _Plenty of time for practice_.

Though they were due to start it next week, Alex had already got the hang of the Seesaw Charm. She knew there was much more she could do with it, though, and the workshop had given her one idea: connecting more than two objects together.

She looked around for ideas. Similar objects would be best. And then it was obvious - the table was covered with them. Quills. She pulled a couple of spares from her bag and laid them on the table, thinking of what she could do with them.

"_Topsy,_" she said, tapping one quill firmly, then inverted the usual pendulum motion to the others. "_Turvy._" She drew a circle around the three other quills and jabbed.

Grinning with anticipation, she picked up the first quill. The others mirrored her action, as if picked up by invisible hands. _Brilliant_. It was immediately obvious that she didn't have much control over the bound objects - she couldn't use the spell to move them individually, for example. She had to do that with her free hand. Wanting to test it out properly, she laid out several sheets of parchment, inked all the quills and set them down on the paper. Then she picked up the primary quill again and started to write.

_Yes! It's working!_ The other quills were each writing on their parchments, mirroring her exactly. _I can't believe it's so easy!_

But when she went to read the other parchments her heart fell. Oh, the quills had written fine - but with mirror writing. It was nonsense.

_I guess the Seesaw Charm has limits to how much you can remove the reflective quality_, she thought. _You'd need a different associative Charm for an exact copy._

Someone laughed derisively from over her shoulder.

"Really, Alex," said Hermione, looking at her mirror writing, "you should have known the Seesaw reverses everything. It's right there in the name!"

Alex just glared at her until she went back to her seat. Hermione never extended her spells, Alex had noticed. She kept them exactly as described in their books. _Does she even realise it's possible?_ Hermione was wrong - her spell might have produced mirror writing, but she had managed to change it partially - when she lifted one quill, the others had gone up when they should have gone down.

_Ah, of course_. It made sense when she thought about it. At the deepest level, the Seesaw Charm wasn't designed to act as a physical seesaw - though that was its default behaviour. Rather, the Seesaw Charm attached to the primary quality of two objects, relating them as opposites.

The primary property of quills was their ability to write. So while she could stop the Seesaw affecting the physical motion of the quills, she couldn't make the spell go against its fundamental nature. _Thus mirror writing_.

A round of suppressed giggles drifted over from where Hermione was sitting. Alex turned to look at the group of Ravenclaw girls - the closest thing Hermione had to friends - to find them looking straight at her. _Right_. _That's it_.

The Seesaw Charm was really bad over anything more than a few inches, but Alex thought she could make it work. Her spellcasting was pretty precise.

"Watch this," she whispered to the girls around her. She tapped her book with her wand - "_topsy_" - then pointed it towards Hermione - "_turvy._" Then, with a grin, she dropped her book onto the floor.

Hermione's book rocketed upwards, smacking right into the reading girl's face.

"Ow!" she said. As quiet as the room was, it carried, and more than a few people looked up.

"How's my Seesaw now?" Alex said.

Hermione's face twisted and she pointed her wand at Alex.

"_Petrificus,_" she began, and Alex's eyes widened "_tota-"_

"_Salvo_!" someone called, and the spell was blocked. It was Taggart, walking down the aisle towards them. "No jinxes," he said sternly, looking between them. He sighed when he saw Alex. "Why is it always you?"

"I didn't do anything!" Alex said, "she was the one jinxing _me_!"

"I'm sure," said Taggart.

"She hit me with a book!" said Hermione. _Tell-tale_. Taggart rubbed his forehead.

"Okay, Alexandra, you're going to come and work next to me-"

"What?" said Alex, "that's not fair!"

"- and Hermione, you're going to the other end of the hall."

"I want her to say sorry!" said Hermione.

"Okay, Hermione," said Alex, "I'm sorry you're insufferable. I'm sorry I'm better at magic than you."

"Ladies..." said Taggart, but he was ignored.

"You are not!" said Hermione, "I could beat you any day."

"_Silencio!_" said Taggart, just as Alex went to tell Hermione just how useless she was. No sound came out. "Much better," said Taggart. "Now, clearly this silly argument isn't going to stop any time soon. So we're going to sort it out once and for all tonight." He glanced at his watch. "There's an hour of homework period left. When it's over you'll have an Enchanter's Duel. Three rounds; I'm the judge. Whoever loses must defer further satisfaction for a period of one year."

Excited whispers spread across the hall - everyone was listening, of course. An Enchanter's Duel! _Finally,_ Alex thought, _a chance to beat Hermione with everyone watching_.

"Needless to say," said Taggart, looking around the hall, "if anyone tells a teacher they won't like the consequences."

More whispers. No doubt everyone was remembering Cuthbert Quigley, the 3rd year who'd managed to get on the Head Boy's bad side. Duels of all kinds were forbidden, of course, but an Enchanter's Duel was the safest kind. They didn't send spells at each other, like a Warlock's Duel. An Enchanter's Duel was a contest of feats.

"You have an hour to prepare," said Taggart, and he turned away.

Alex sat down with a grin, whispering excitedly with Lily.

"First round is always Charms," said Lily, "you could do to the Seesaw?"

"Not good enough with it yet," said Alex, thinking. "I need my _best_ Charm. Animation - it has to be."

"Ohh," said Lily, looking over at Hermione - who was consulting the Ravenclaws frantically. "She's not gonna know what hit her. What about round two?"

"Transfiguration is my best subject," said Alex. "I'll just do my most advanced stuff. What's round three?"

"Freestyle," said Lily, "sometimes Potions, but we don't have the time for that. It'll have to be a spell."

"Another Transfiguration makes sense," said Alex, thinking, "but what? I can't just repeat-" An idea popped into her head. "Oh wow. I've got something."

"What is it?" said Lily, leaning in so Alex could whisper in her ear.

"You'll just have to wait and see!" said Alex, "hang on, I need to look something up first." She headed to Taggart's end of the hall. Next to the prefect's desk was another one, empty but for a black slate and chalk, which she picked up.

_Advanced Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_. A moment passed, then a large tome popped into existence on the table. Taggart looked over and raised his eyebrow. "Careful now, Alex. Don't bite off more than you can chew."

"You'll see," said Alex, confident. Hermione didn't stand a chance.

She returned to her seat and started to flick through the NEWT-level book, looking forone thing in particular.

"Alex, I'm not sure about this..." said Lily, glancing at the book nervously. "That's really advanced."

"Trust me," said Alex, without looking up. She was running out of time.

"Okay, boys and girls!" called Taggart at eight-thirty. "Homework period is officially over! You may now return to your dorms... or, if you want, you can stay and watch."

No one left. As if there was any question.

"I thought as much," said Taggart. "Everyone clear the tables."

A lot of shuffling followed as everyone stood, putting their books away. As soon as the tables were clear, Taggart waved his wand, pushing them to the sides of the room.

"Alexandra, Hermione, where are you?"

"Here," said Alex, walking forward. Hermione joined her.

"Good," said Taggart, "everyone, form a circle. Give them lots of room, now."

A ring of people formed around the three of them: Alex, Hermione and Taggart. For the first time Alex began to feel nervous. She was surrounded by the whole of first year, watching on eagerly. Never before had she been at the centre of so much direct attention.

"Well then," said Taggart, moving to the edge of the circle. Alex and Hermione stood in the centre, facing each other like boxers. "First round is Charms. Alex, you go first."

Alex raised her wand and glanced around. Everyone was suddenly very quiet, as if they were all holding their breath. Alex licked her lips nervously, before steeling herself. _She's going down_.

She moved her wand into sixth position: down by her side, pointing at the floor with an open wrist. "_Propellum!_" she cried, whipping the wand up above her head in a large lasso. A dozen objects around her flashed purple, and then they began to move.

A satchel shook itself awake, twisting itself to form two leg-like stumps. Books began to hobble across the floor, using their covers as feet; the crowd parted to let them through. And quills floated out of twenty bags to gather in the air, where they formed the shape of a prowling cat.

Alex conducted them with her wand, sending them dancing and twirling around Hermione in a ring.

"_Finite incantatum_," she said after thirty seconds, bringing an end to the spell. The objects fell to the floor, lifeless. Alex gave Hermione a satisfied smirk.

Alex looked for Susan while Taggart led the polite applause, but couldn't see her. _I wonder who she's rooting for?_

"A very well executed Animation Charm," said Taggart, "multiple objects, complex guided behaviour, high stability. Nice. Hermione - your turn."

Alex stepped back to watch. She was actually pretty interested to see what the bushy haired girl would produce. She certainly looked confident - she wasn't smiling, but Alex could she was trying not to. _She has something_, Alex realised.

She picked up one of the books at her feet and held it open with her left hand, holding her wand over it. "_Disrumpio!_" she said, bringing her wand down hard on the spine. The book snapped in two like a bar of chocolate. It was the first spell they learnt in Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"Is that it?" said Alex.

"No," said Hermione, and she smirked. "Watch."

She knelt on the floor next to the broken book and lined up the two halves.

"_Reparo!_" she said, drawing a line down the split spine. She stood back up and brandished the now-repaired book like a trophy. Everyone clapped - much more than they had for Alex. _The Charm wasn't even done properly! Look - it's wobbling along it's spine._

But that didn't seem to matter to the others.

"The Repair Charm is fifth year magic," said Taggart, looking at Hermione appraisingly. "It was crudely done, but successful. The round goes to Hermione."

The Gryffindors whooped and cheered as the rest of the crowd clapped politely. Alex spun to look at Lily, stunned. _I should've won_, she thought. _My spell was better!_ Lily shrugged.

"Round two!" called Taggart, quieting the crowd. "Transfiguration! Alex, once again, you start."

_Alright. There's no way she's beating me on this one_. She pulled a pencil out of her bag.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_," she said, levitating it into the centre of the circle so everyone could see. Hermione got to cast multiple spells, so she could too. "_Mutato Lingnum._"

The pencil warped and transformed, growing larger and larger until it was an amorphous blob of liquid wood almost as large as Alex. She completed the spell with a final twist of her wrist, shaping it into an approximation of Dumbledore's lectern in the Great Hall, a griffin's head rearing from the top.

"Good one," said Taggart, and he went to clap, but Alex stopped him.

"I'm not done yet," she said, and she raised her wand again. "_Ferro verto!_" she cried, jabbing her wand at the wooden statue. The wood rippled and turned to iron. Hermione gaped.

Taggart walked forward and inspected the object. "It's iron," he said, surprise clearly in his voice. Everyone clapped - much more enthusiastically this time. Personally, Alex thought she could have done better - she's sacrificed a lot of detail for size, and it would have been better to merge the spells into one casting - but she was sure it was enough to win.

If Hermione's glum expression was anything to go by she knew it too. She pointed her wand at a pencil of her own and then, with little fanfare, said "_Mutato Lignum._"

The pencil turned into a small model of a rabbit, little larger than a football. In class it would have made McGonagall very happy. Against Alex, however, it was far from enough.

"Alex wins the round," said Taggart, "which means third round takes all. Alex?"

_That's it_, Alex thought, _I've won. There's no way she can beat this_.

"Not bad, Granger," Alex said, "you're better than I thought. But you've already lost - you just don't know it yet."

"You're all talk," said Hermione. "Let's see it."

Alex smirked. "Your wish," she said, "is my command."

She brought her wand up in front of her face, before tapping herself on the forehead.

"Wait!" said Taggart, realising what she was doing, but there was no stopping her.

"_Homo Fio!_" Alex announced, loud enough for everyone to hear - but she didn't cast the spell. She didn't even try to - she wasn't stupid.

Instead, she pushed with her metamorphmagus powers.

Everyone gasped.

"I don't believe it," said Taggart, staring at her like she was an alien. "It's not possible."

"My name's Hermione," said Alex in a sing song voice, tossing her now-bushy hair_,_ "and I just lost."

It was like flipping a switch: the hall erupted into cheers and shouts. A couple of Hufflepuffs started chanting her name. She had done the impossible - a first year, able to perform a complete human Transfiguration.

"Quiet down, everyone!" said Taggart, turning to face the crowd.

Hermione strode forward and grabbed hold Alex's bag.

"What're you doing?" cried Alex, pulling away.

"Let me see!" Hermione said, and she came away with the copy of _Advanced Transfiguration_. She set it down on the ground and started scanning the contents. Taggart was still distracted.

"Don't bother, Hermione," said Alex. "You can't do it. You've lost."

"Anything you can do I can do too!" said Hermione, tears in her eyes, and she landed on the last chapter in the book - the chapter where Alex had found the incantation.

"What are you doing?" said Taggart, walking over. "Hermione, stop, there's no way you can-"

Hermione stood up and brandished her wand.

"No!" said Taggart, reaching for his own wand, but he wasn't quick enough.

"_Homo Fio!_" shouted Hermione. The spell made a squelching sound, like a boot being pulled from mud, and then a loud _crack._ It was immediately obvious the spell had gone terribly wrong. Half of Hermione's face was missing. It had collapsed in on itself, a mess of exposed red flesh, protruding bone, and teeth. Her eyeball was hanging loose, and her lower jaw had all but vanished. You could see all the way to the back of her throat, where her tongue flapped around uselessly like a fish out of water.

She made a choking sound, and collapsed.

Alex screamed.

* * *

The next day whispers followed Alex wherever she went.

"_There she is..."_

"_...You Know Who..."_

"_...yes, the Doppelganger Transformation..."_

"_... not even Dumbledore..."_

It seemed that the school had finally remembered: Alexandra Potter was the Girl Who Lived. It made Alex uncomfortable, the way everyone seemed to part before her in the hallway. The way they pointed without caring that it was rude. The way some of them actually looked _scared_ of her.

One person who wasn't scared of her was Professor McGonagall. She was, however, furious. The next morning Alex and Taggart were summoned to her office.

"Your lack of forethought is staggering," McGonagall said. She was sitting behind her desk, her hands palm down on the wood. Next to her right hand lay her wand. The rest of the office was rather bare - almost spartan. Her only decorations were the hundreds of books lining the walls.

Alex, sitting opposite McGonagall, developed a sudden interest in her shoes.

"Especially you, Taggart," she continued. "As a prefect, your first duty is always the safety of your fellow students."

"I know it went wrong," said Taggart, himself unable to meet McGonagall's eye. "But it's not like it's particularly unusual - Enchanter's Duels, that is. There were at least five last year."

McGonagall's nostrils flared.

"Be that as it may, Taggart, the rules are there for a reason." She paused to take a piece of parchment from a drawer - a form. "For exactly _this_ reason. A girl almost died, for goodness sake!"

"I'm sorry, Professor."

"Your apology is accepted. However," - she started filling in the parchment - "you cannot remain a prefect. I will require your badge."

Taggart took the badge from his pocket - he hadn't been wearing it - and placed it on the desk.

"Very good," said McGonagall, not looking up. "You're dismissed."

Alex got up to leave, but -

"Not _you_, Miss Potter."

Alex swallowed and sat back down. They sat in silence for a while, after Taggart had left, the only sound the scratching of quill on paper. Alex fidgeted. What was going to happen to her? Was she going to be expelled?

At last, McGonagall put her quill down and sighed.

"When I picked you up this summer, Miss Potter, you were everything I had hoped. Everything I had thought you could never be, growing up with... those people. You were polite. Curious. Humble. Even a little shy." Alex waited for the other shoe to drop. "Since arriving at Hogwarts, what have you achieved?"

Alex wasn't sure if that was the kind of question she was supposed to answer, so she kept quiet.

"You have argued with your closest friends. You have developed a feud with Miss Greengrass." Alex frowned - how did McGonagall know all that? "Don't look so surprised, Miss Potter. We teachers are not blind." She stood up and walked around the desk to sit in the chair Taggart had vacated. "And now you have involved yourself in a fight with Miss Granger - a girl who by all rights should be a good friend."

"I-"

"I haven't finished," said McGonagall. "Now, it bears mentioning that you haven't broken any rules. Your duel was sanctioned - instigated, even - by a prefect, and no Dark magic was involved. Moreover, Miss Granger foolishly cast that spell herself." She reached over to Alex and pushed up her chin with one finger, making Alex meet her eyes.

"But you need to take a good, hard look at yourself, Alex. At the person you're becoming. By all accounts you _tricked_ Miss Granger into casting that spell - we both know how. Just as you provoked the duel in the first place."

Alex licked her lips and looked down again. She felt... ashamed. If she'd been given detention, that was one thing. But she remembered, now, her trip to Diagon Alley with McGonagall. How pleased the older woman had been with Alex. She didn't like disappointing her.

"You cannot be held officially accountable. But we both know that Miss Granger now lies in the Hospital Wing because of your decisions, Alex."

She stood up and returned to her desk.

"I look forward to hearing of you turning over a new leaf, Miss Potter."

The dismissal was clear. Alex left without saying a word, closing the door quietly. And then she found an empty toilet, locked herself in the cubicle, and cried. _I never meant for anyone to get hurt_, she thought. _I just wanted to be... better. And Hermione - she doesn't exactly make things easy! _She wiped her eyes. _I told her not to try the spell. So did Taggart. I'm sorry that it ended like it did, but it's not really my fault._

Still. Alex thought it would be a good idea not to get into another duel any time soon. Not that she'd need to - she'd won the one against Hermione so thoroughly that no one was going to challenge her any time soon. _Except maybe Daphne. She really isn't afraid of me_.

Drying her eyes, Alex left the bathroom intending to find Lily. She'd got back late the previous night, after accompanying the unconscious Hermione to the hospital wing, and hadn't seen her since it had happened.

She found her in the library of all places, sitting with a group of Slytherin girls at the end of one of the stacks.

"Oh yeah, Alex has all sorts of secret training," said Lily, and Alex froze the other side of the bookcase. "That's why she's so good at everything, you know? Dumbledore's been teaching her magic since she was little. You know she's gone to his office loads of times, since she's got here?"

_I don't believe it_, thought Alex. _I thought I could trust her! _But it was clear as day: Lily was spreading stories about her, with enough truth mixed with the lies to make it hard to deny. Yes, she'd been visiting Dumbledore - but just to talk. He wasn't training her in duelling, or Defence Against the Dark Arts, or anything like that. The poisons were an exception, but no one knew about that. They were all obliviated - Dumbledore had said so.

"No way!" said Priscilla Lokey.

"Yes way," said Lily, "of course, she only shares this stuff with us Hufflepuff girls. She's told us all sorts of secret curses Dumbledore's taught her."

_Urgh!_

Alex didn't want to hear any more. She turned around and walked away as quickly and quietly as she could, looking around for an empty table. But the library was particularly busy that day, and she ended up going deeper and deeper, until she was almost at the Restricted Section.

It was there that she found an unoccupied table - though it was covered in books. She pulled out a chair and glanced through them. _Jinxes_, said one rather plainly. Another was called _The Noble Beast - _a peak inside confirmed that it was about dragons. At the bottom of the pile was a rather tatty tome entitled _Somniamancy_.

_That looks like something from the Restricted Section._ Curious, she went to open it - only for someone to snatch the book right from her hands.

"That's mine," said Astrid Lestrange. She was a tall, skinny girl with long black hair and pale skin. "You're in my seat."

Alex's first instinct was to snap back, but McGonagall's words were still fresh in her mind.

"I'm sorry," she said, "can I sit with you?"

"No," said Astrid, but she took the seat opposite Alex anyway. "Go away."

_McGonagall's way sucks_, Alex thought. "That's an interesting book," she said, "can I see it?"

"No," said Astrid. She was really beginning to try Alex's patience. "Go away." Her insistence only made Alex want to stay more.

"Where'd you get it from?" she asked, ignoring Astrid's rudeness. "I didn't think you could find books like that in the main library."

"That's because you're stupid."

Alex lost her smile. She did _not_ like being called stupid.

"Last I checked I was top of our class, not you," said Alex, and Astrid looked up from her book to glare at her.

"There's more to magic than class," she said.

"Like the Dark Arts?" said Alex, raising an eyebrow. "I wonder what Professor Veigel would say, if he knew you had that book..."

Astrid put the book down. "If I let you read it, will you shut up?"

Alex grinned.

"Sure!" she said, and she pulled the book over. She felt a thrill just from holding it. _Forbidden knowledge_. Who knew what Dark and powerful secrets lay within?

She opened the book reverently.

_Somniamancy is a branch of magic which concerns itself with the manipulation of dreams..._

_...and nightmares._


	11. Firsts and Lasts

A.N. Apologies for the 3 weeks with no updates. I went on holiday, and then it was the start of a new term. Anyway, enough of that. An update is finally here, and a monster one it is too. This bad boy clocks in at 16k words.

* * *

**Alexandra Potter**

By Taure

_Chapter Eleven: Firsts and Lasts_

The Enchanter's Duel between Alex and Hermione quickly became part of Hogwarts legend. Nonetheless, several weeks later everything had returned to normal – more or less. It was time, Alex had decided, to keep her head down. She'd had enough of the spotlight for one term. So she increased her reading and decreased her profile, choosing to sit at the back of every class.

Hermione still hadn't returned, having been transferred to 's Hospital. Her empty seat in Transfiguration was impossible for Alex to ignore, the silence around it louder than any bell. Sometimes she would catch herself staring at it mid-class, her work forgotten, the image of Hermione's ruined face stuck in her mind.

After several days of feeling rather lonely, Alex started talking with Lily again. If she had noticed Alex's sudden absence from her life, she didn't mention it, accepting Alex back into her company without comment. That was the thing with Lily, Alex realised: she was the kind of easy-going friend who was just _fun _- but not the kind you told your secrets to.

Following Lily's advice, Alex tried to make more time for Draco, but privacy was surprisingly hard to find. By the time the Quidditch game against Montery Hall came around – the last day of the winter term – they still hadn't kissed, and Alex was beginning to get impatient. With Lily egging her on every couple of days, she was determined to get a kiss before he left for Christmas.

"Draco!" she called, pushing her way through the bustling Entrance Hall. As soon as lunch had finished, the inevitable end-of-term chaos reigned: everyone was meant to be making their way down to the gatehouse, but no one seemed to be in charge. Montery Hall was arriving at two o'clock and the whole school was to meet them at the gates. The match was quite the event in the Hogwarts calendar, so the castle was full to bursting, packed with visiting parents, journalists and even politicians.

"Alexandra!" said Draco as she approached, and it was then she noticed he wasn't alone. A pair of adults were with him, standing with their backs to her. Both of them were tall, immaculately dressed, and had white-blond hair. _Oh no... _They turned to face her, and she knew who they were without needing to be told. The resemblance was striking.

"Ah, the young Lady Potter," said Mr Malfoy, inclining his head ever so slightly, his eyes fixed on her scar. He had long hair, tied back in a ponytail with a black ribbon, and was extremely handsome, with a strong jaw and straight-edged nose. But his most striking feature couldn't be seen: it was his voice. Refined and precise, it had a clipped quality to it and, though he spoke slowly, every word sounded heavy with deliberation.

"Lord Malfoy," said Alex, curtsying. It was not a familiar movement. "Lady Malfoy."

"So polite!" said Mrs Malfoy, offering her a small smile. She was absolutely stunning. A woman in her prime, she could have walked straight off a catwalk. But there was a certain hardness about her, Alex thought. Her jaw and brow had the sharp, delicate lines of a model, not the soft curves of a seemed so... glamourous. "But please, call me Narcissa."

"Lucius," said Mr Malfoy, before gesturing at the clock with his cane. It had a silver snake's head at the top, but he held it by the shaft. "Your appearance is well-timed - we were just about to depart for the gate."

"And of course you must accompany us," said Narcissa, holding out her arm. "Draco's been telling us _all _about you in his letters."

Alex glanced at Draco, pleased. "I'd love to," she said, and she took Narcissa's offered arm. _I wonder what he's been telling them._

"Would you, Lucius?" said Narcissa, glancing at the hubbub between them and the entrance.

"Certainly," he said, and he whipped his wand out of his cane.

_BANG!_

The Hall fell silent. All eyes turned to the source of the sound.

"Montery Hall shall arrive in ten minutes," he said, addressing everyone. "I suggest we make our way to the gates without delay."

His _suggestion _was obeyed instantly. In that moment Alex knew that all the talk of Lucius Malfoy's money was only half-true: even penniless, the man's natural dignity and poise would command respect. He slid his wand back into his cane. "Shall we?"

December in Scotland was not warm. Though it wasn't yet cold enough for snow, the wind was biting. Alex shivered the moment they passed out of the castle, and pulled out her wand. She remembered her manners just in time.

"Can I offer anyone a warming Charm?" she said.

"No, thank you," said Narcissa, lifting her wrist for Alex to see. She was wearing a silver Charm bracelet - no doubt one of the many Charms was for the cold.

"But I'm sure Draco would be most grateful," said Lucius. Alex looked to Draco, who shrugged.

"Don't shrug, Draco," said Lucius. Draco's cheeks went pink.

"_Calortendo_," said Alex, flicking the wand at both Draco and herself. A pleasant warmth surrounded her, turning the chilling wind into a summer's breeze.

"Thank you," said Draco, and he walked around so that he was next to her.

"A fine Charm," said Lucius, who had watched her casting closely. "You changed the second movement - why?"

"If you don't, you only warm the person," said Alex, not sure if she was being tested. "You have to loosen the object to include the air around you if you want to avoid the wind too."

Narcissa raised her eyebrow and glanced at Lucius. "Perhaps your criticisms of Dumbledore are ill-conceived, husband," she said. "Hogwarts' tuition has evidently improved since our time."

_Criticisms of Dumbledore? Who would criticise Dumbledore?_

Mr Malfoy his wife an amused look. "Perhaps," he allowed, "or perhaps young Alexandra is a budding Swann."

"She is," said Draco, "she's top of the year. You know she can actually do-"

"No need to gossip!" said Alex, seeing where he was going. Her 'ability' to perform Human Transfiguration featured in many a rumour, but no one ever guessed she was a metamorphmagus. And why would they? There were fewer than five of them in the whole world, from what Alex could find. Still, she never felt comfortable with the topic, and not just because Hermione almost died.

"Ah, yes," said Lucius, looking at Alex speculatively. "The Transfiguration incident."

"You know about that?" said Alex, dismayed.

"As one of Hogwarts' Governors, I make it my business to know all that occurs here," he said. "It was an unfortunate accident, certainly. Yet nonetheless impressive."

"You've clearly inherited your parents best traits," said Narcissa.

"And - hopefully - discarded the worst," added Lucius.

"You knew my parents?" said Alex. "Draco never said!" The Malfoys exchanged an unreadable look.

"We were... acquainted," said Narcissa, "but not close."

They walked in silence for a moment or two, and Alex took the chance to think hard about whether she was awake or dreaming. It was part of Somniamancy - the first step was to become self-aware during a dream, which meant constantly questioning if you were really awake, until it became a habit.

Alex turned to Draco.

"So, Draco," she said, giving him an evil grin, "what have you been writing about me in all those letters?" Draco went rather red and glanced nervously between his parents. His mother came to his rescue.

"Well, he spoke extensively of your beauty," she said, "but I must admit, his words did not do you justice."

Her words filled Alex with warmth - a kind of happiness that seemed to begin in her toes and spread upwards. "You said I'm beautiful?" she said to Draco. No one had ever called her _beautiful _before. If they weren't with his parents she would've kissed him there and then.

Draco looked down at his feet and mumbled something, before Lucius used his cane to lift Draco's chin. "I believe we've spoken of navel-gazing, Draco," he said. Alex suddenly became rather conscious of her own head position - she too had been looking at the ground as they walked.

The path approached the gatehouse, where parents and students had gathered on both sides, forming a human tunnel through which Montery would enter. Though they were still some way from the edge of the crowd, the Malfoys stopped walking, hanging back.

"Here they come," said Narcissa, pointing to the gate.

It became clear very quickly that Montery Hall was a much larger school than Hogwarts. They came and they came, hundreds upon hundreds of them, entering the grounds to light applause.

"There's so many of them!" Alex said. "I had no idea... just how big _is _Montery Hall?"

"Three times as large as Hogwarts," said Lucius, "they accept all kinds."

"Wow," said Alex. As the visitors got closer - they were heading for the Quidditch pitch - Alex's first impression was that they were all rather... scruffy. Muggle clothes were mixed in with their uniforms. And no one seemed to be wearing their robes correctly: buttons were undone that were meant to be closed, and more than a few girls were walking around without any kind outer robe.

They passed by noisily, joking and shouting. Many of them were pointing at the castle beyond, and Alex felt a certain pride at that.

"Completely different to Hogwarts, of course," added Narcissa. "It's a rare thing for a Montery student to gain an OWL. Their education is somewhat more _practical_."

"I've heard Nimbus actually has a training programme there," said Draco.

"The Ministry, Nimbus, and a dozen other companies besides," said Lucius, "unfortunately for us, that includes Quidditch teams."

"Is that why they always beat us?" Alex asked, and Narcissa laughed - a very musical sound.

"They have so little," said Lucius. He was smiling, but there was a tightness to it. "We must allow them something."

The Montery Quidditch team entered last. Wearing striped robes of blue and white, when they stepped through the gate the polite applause transformed into true cheers. A proper welcome.

"You two should find a good spot," said Narcissa, looking over to the stadium. "It's been enlarged, but you'll want to be at the front."

"Where are you sitting?" asked Draco.

"In the Headmaster's box, with the other Governors," said Lucius. "Now run along - and pay attention, Draco. You can learn much from watching Montery play, if you wish to join the team next year."

"It was nice to meet you, Sir, Ma'am," Alex said, curtsying once more.

"And you, Alexandra," said Narcissa. "I look forward to our next meeting."

Alex let her hand slide into Draco's - a familiar habit, now - and they headed for the stadium, mixing in with the unruly Montery students. A fight broke out further down the path; a harried looking adult pushed through the jeering students to break it up.

"Muggle duelling," sniffed Draco, "it's like they're not even wizards." Alex hummed in agreement - she couldn't remember a single example of a physical fight at Hogwarts.

The stadium loomed ahead. Narcissa was right: it had been significantly enlarged. A whole second ring had been added. Standing on stilts, it joined up with the inner ring, providing bleachers for hundreds.

"That wasn't there yesterday," said Alex, having to speak loudly over the noise of the crowd.

"McGonagall made it last night," said Draco - he always knew things like that. Where he heard it all, Alex didn't know, but he was rarely surprised by anything that happened at Hogwarts.

"Nice," said Alex, her opinion of McGonagall's skills going up once more. To conjure up a stadium overnight was no small feat. "I wonder what-"

"Alex!" Lily called, "wait up!" She ran to catch up with them, her face flushed with excitement. "I've been looking for you _everywhere_. I saw him! Right up close!"

"Saw who?" said Alex.

* * *

"... and their captain, ERIC SWIFT!"

A tall, dark haired boy swaggered onto the pitch; the stadium went wild. He raised his arms to welcome the cheers, and Alex noticed he wasn't even carrying a broom.

"There he is!" shouted Lily as she jumped up, straining to see the star over the group of 7th years in front. Draco was more reserved, but he too was leaning forward eagerly. _Not you too_, Alex thought. She really didn't understand all the fuss over Swift. He wasn't even that handsome.

"You know," Draco said "I heard that Puddlemere are going to sign him for-"

"Oh my god!" said Lily. Swift had stretched an arm out and, without speaking a word, without a wand in sight, a broom sailed out of the tunnel into his waiting hand.

_That_made Alex sit up. Wandless magic like that - it was beyond anything she'd ever seen.

"How'd he do that?" she said.

"Who cares!" shouted Lily.

"You haven't seen anything yet," said Draco, flashing her a grin. He was happy that she was interested, Alex realised. _Perhaps I'll pay a bit more attention_.

The two teams gathered in the centre of the pitch in two semi-circles, with the referee - an aging black man - in the centre.

"And the players line up around the referee, Urquhart Pyre," said the commentator, his voice thin and reedy over the megaphone. Lee Jordan had been replaced for this important match, with Radio Minus Five's commentators taking over. The match was to be broadcast all over Britain. "As usual, today's referee has been graciously provided by the International Quidditch Association and their sponsors, the West Africa Trading Company."

Polite applause for the referee followed, and Alex mockingly turned her applause towards Draco, who inclined his head in an imitation of his father. He'd mentioned it enough times for Alex to remember: the West Africa Trading Company was the source of much of the Malfoy's wealth.

Pyre exchanged words with the teams, too quiet for the stands to hear, and a sickle was tossed. Swift pointed towards the opposite end of the pitch, and the teams switched sides.

"And here we go!" called the commentator, and Pyre blew his whistle, throwing the Quaffle into the air. The teams shot up after it, but all eyes were on Swift.

He did not disappoint.

It was like watching an adult among children. An athlete among cripples. Swift didn't _ride_his broom. He merely held it in one hand and rocketed into the air, one foot braced against the shaft. He was the first to the quaffle, grasping it in one hand, before dancing his way through the Hogwarts chasers, spinning and twisting around each of them in turn.

_Ding!_

"And Swift scores before the Hogwarts keeper even reaches the hoops! Ten-nil to Montery Hall!"

Darco brought his hands to his face, groaning. For her part, Lily seemed somewhat divided between loyalty to Hogwarts and admiration of Swift.

"Wow," said Alex, her eyes fixed on the game. Swift had the quaffle again, having snatched it from right under Flint's nose. "He's better than everyone else put together," she said, "it's like he barely needs the broom to fly."

_Ding!_

"He's practically pro already," said Draco as the quaffle went back into play.

"This is how they play in the leagues?" said Alex. "Maybe we could go see a match, sometime."

"Count on it," said Draco.

"It looks like Diggory's seen the snitch!" said the commentator. For a moment, everyone forgot about Swift as the two seekers launched themselves towards the Headmaster's box. Alex squinted - she couldn't see the gold ball anywhere.

"There it is!" said Draco, leaning in to her and pointing so she could look down his arm. "Moving down the side."

"I see it!" said Alex, leaning forward - Diggory and the Montery seeker were neck and neck.

"Diggory's got the edge!" said the commentator, and Alex gripped Draco's hand. If Diggory caught the snitch now, Hogwarts would win!

But then Swift was there, outstipping both seekers.

"Can he - ?" said Alex.

"No!" said Draco, and Swift gave the snitch a mighty kick, sending it hurtling away from Diggory. "Foul!" shouted Draco, jumping to his feet.

Pyre's whistle blew, but the snitch was gone.

"And Swift is sent to the sin bin for five minutes for an open foul," said the commentator as Angelina Johnson took the penalty, "remember folks, only seekers can handle the snitch! Penalty to Hogwarts... and Angelina Johnson finally gets them into the points! Right through the left hoop! Hogwarts has five minutes to score as many points as they can, before Swift rejoins the game..."

And yet, even a player down, Montery were far from defeated. They made the Slytherin team look like fairies, so dirty was their play - always just toeing the rules, they used violence to fill the gap left by Swift.

"Surely this is cheating," said Alex as the Montery chasers and beaters teamed up on Wood. They lined up the quaffle and a bludger - Wood bit the bullet, blocked the quaffle, and took the bludger to his face. His nose was completely squashed and bloody, but he was still conscious.

"This is Quidditch!" said Draco, clapping Wood enthusiastically. "This is what it's all about!"

"And that's five minutes! Eric Swift re-enters the game with the score tied at forty to forty! Hogwarts better catch the snitch soon!"

The tide of the game turned immediately. The Montery keeper passed the quaffle straight to Swift, who used it to block one bludger before ducking under another. Flint shouted something, and grabbed a bat from one of the Weasley twins.

Alex frowned. "What is he...?"

Swift was past Johnson and Davies, but Flint was still between him and the hoops. The burly Slytherin shot right at him, brandishing the bat. Swift waited for the last moment - he threw the quaffle upwards, before diving down; Flint swung the bat, but Swift wasn't there anymore - he was the other side of Flint, catching the quaffle again, before using his feet to launch off Flint's back towards the hoops.

What Swift hadn't seen - what none of them had noticed, so absorbed were they in Flint's display - was Cedric drifting towards the Montery hoops.

"There he goes again!" shouted the commentator, right as Cedric darted forwards. He was well clear of the Montery seeker, who was having to dodge a bludger.

"Yes!" said Draco, jumping to his feet once more, egging Cedric on. "Yes, yes, yes!"

_Ding! _Swift scored another 10 points, but no one was paying attention.

"Diggory catches the snitch!"

As one, Hogwarts leapt to their feet - Alex included - and roared their approval as Cedric circled the stands, his fist held aloft, the fluttering wings of the snitch held tightly within.

"We won!" shouted Draco, grinning at Alex, his eyes alive, and she kissed him.

At first he didn't respond, but then he was kissing her back, their lips locking and breaking several times. A chorus of teasing 'ooh's came from around them, and Alex could feel Draco smiling against her lips. It was a nice feeling. She leaned her head to the side - her nose was in the way - and gave him one last, deep, kiss, pushing hard into him, before pulling away.

_We have to do that again_, she thought, a smile creeping across her face at Draco's stunned expression. _I hope I did it right_. She looked at her boyfriend uncertainly and licked her lips. _Lily always talks about using your tongue - was I meant to use my tongue?_

"Um," she said, not sure how to continue. Luckily, Draco had a pretty good idea.

He kissed her again.

* * *

_Dear Alexandra,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. Heracles knows the way to Hogwarts well - mother is always writing me, as you know._

_I've only been here four days and I'm already board. Well, it was good to ride a broom again, but father is always in town. I don't know what he does all day - it's not like he has a job. And mother is always busy with the foundation. _

_So I'm left here alone, most of the time. I don't really know what to do with myself. I've had to entertain several callers who turned up unannounced - honestly, they don't have any manners! Madam Framling actually brought that disgusting dog of hers with her. But they're all after the same thing - information about the ball. Who's coming, who isn't, the theme... it's enough to drive me mad._

_I wish you could come, but the invites were sent out a year ago. You'll have to come next year, though. We can be board by the whole thing together. Do you dance?_

_Please reply soon - a letter would make my day a lot more interesting. Nott's coming over on Friday, which I suppose is something, but you know how he is. He'll probably just want to pester the Elves all day. Vince and Greg are coming on Saturday, thank god._

_How's Hogwarts? I heard Daphne decided to stay, for some reason. Have you seen her? Are you still hanging around with the Lestrange girl? Father told me to avoid her - her parents were both Death Eaters, you know. In Azkaban. But really, the girl is so rude that avoiding her is easy. I don't think she has any friends at all - well, I suppose now she has you. _

_Anyway, I have to go and make sure Dobby's feeding the Hippogriffs right. I swear that elf was dropped on his head as a child._

_With affection,_

_Draco_

_P.S. Heracles will wait for your reply. I know you don't have a messenger bird._

* * *

_Dear Draco,_

_You owe me a jar of glitter! Heracles decided it was food when he delivered your letter. If he experiences "rash, itching, or spontaneous combustion" he should visit his family healer, so be on the lookout :)_

_I'm sorry to hear you're bored (yes, bored - notice the spelling). If I had access to the Malfoy library, I know it would take me years to get bored! Didn't you say you actually have a full collection of Proceedings? AND a first edition Obliviation. But it's good that you're practicing your flying. I bet Cedric isn't going to know what hit him (don't tell anyone I said that. House loyalty and everything)._

_To be honest, Hogwarts sounds about as exciting as Malfoy Manor right now - only we don't have a ball to look forward to (I'd love to come next year by the way, and no, I don't know how to dance). At least I get to avoid the dreaded Madam Framling. As you can probably guess, I'm mostly reading. There's something new I'm working on - maybe I'll show you when you get back, if I've got the hang of it. It's kinda tricky. _

_What else am I doing? I've gone swimming a few times (did I tell you Hufflepuff has a pool?). I'll be going to Hogsmeade this weekend, too. Looking forward to it - I've got lots of presents to buy!_

_To answer your questions: yes, Daphne is at Hogwarts. I don't know why - like she'd tell me! But it is strange. Doesn't she have a little sister? I'm avoiding her, mostly. For now. The thing I mentioned before, that I'm working on - if I get it right, Daphne's got something special heading her way. I haven't forgotten October._

_I'm not sure if I'd call Astrid my friend. We hang out in the library together, sometimes, but like you say, she's not very friendly. I don't think she likes me much. But sometimes you just don't want to be alone, you know? And Dumbledore (cat version) is always off hunting. So Astrid it is! _

_Write me again soon! And less formally! _

_I often remember the last day of term. I can't wait for you to come back. _

_Alex_

_xxx_

* * *

_Am I dreaming?_

The question came by instinct. It was habit, now. But this time it was different.

This time she was asleep.

Alex looked around, suddenly aware of her surroundings. She was sitting alone in the Great Hall with breakfast spread before her, but the place wasn't quite right. She picked up a glass goblet. It didn't lack in detail. It wasn't blurry, or anything like that. It looked like a glass, its edges clearly defined. But still, something was different. It seemed softer, somehow. Less real. Like she could just -

_Disappear_, Alex thought, and the glass was gone. But it didn't go with a pop or a puff of smoke. No - she wanted the glass gone, and the dream changed to not include it. It was as if it never existed.

Alex felt her excitement begin to rise. This was it. This was the first stage of Somniamancy - what she'd been trying to achieve for weeks. Somniamancy was a very special branch of magic - you couldn't just pick up your wand and have at it. You first had to be asleep. But that created a problem: how to cast spells when your mind was wandering, drifting aimlessly through dreams? First you had to become aware - only then could you even begin Somniamancy.

_Wand_, Alex thought, and her wand appeared in her hand. It had a solid weight to it that was utterly undreamlike. Her waking body, she knew, would be clutching the wand tightly - she'd been sleeping with it stuck to her hand for weeks now, in preparation for this moment.

Her heart thumped in her chest. _Stop that_, she thought. She didn't want to wake herself up. The book warned that could happen, especially the first few times. _Get a hold of yourself_.

She stood up. After becoming aware inside a dream, the next step was navigation. She left the Great Hall through the main doors, pushing them open like they weighed nothing. The Entrance Hall beyond was as empty as the Great Hall before it. The quiet was unnerving. It wasn't right. Hogwarts wasn't this quiet, not even at night. It was like the whole castle was frozen.

She made her way to Hufflepuff House, and then to her dorm. It was dark - pitch black, she knew - but Alex could see without a problem. And there she was, lying on her back, her eyes closed. Her hair was loose and tangled, but clear of her face. Hovering just above the centre of her forehead was a mote of light, like someone had plucked a star from the night's sky and placed it there. Just as the book had described.

The sickly green glow surrounding her scar - that was something the book _hadn't _described. _I wonder what it means? _She reached out a cautious hand, and pressed an experimental finger to the light.

"Ow!" she said, snatching her hand back. Her sleeping body twitched. It was like a bee sting, but the pain quickly faded. _Okay, leaving that alone for now. _She wasn't quite sure what Dumbledore would think of Somniamancy, but she was pretty sure it wasn't the kind of thing she could ask him about. _I'll just have to figure out another way to bring up my scar_.

She turned her attention back to the white light over her forehead. Her own sleeping mind.

_Here goes nothing_.

"_Recludo!_" she said, taking her wand from the eleventh - pressed to her right temple - to point at the ball of light. A gust of wind whispered through the window, rusting the curtains around her bed, and the dark seemed to get deeper. _Did it work?_

"_Somentia!_" she said, sweeping her wand widely. Where her wand passed, little twinkling lights appeared in the darkness - just like the one over her own head. It had worked - she had escaped her own dream. Each one of those lights was a sleeping person, lying somewhere within Hogwarts. Only there weren't enough lights - no more than fifteen. Alex knew there were at least thirty students staying at Hogwarts for the holidays. _The spell has limited range, then_.

One light was close, she could tell. It was brighter than the rest, and twinkling more energetically. Alex knew who it had to be - Roland Peaks, third year Hufflepuff. Curious, she crept out of her dorm and walked down the stairs. But as she passed the landing into the boys dorms, the dream began to change. The portraits on the walls grew hazy, and the dark gathered around her like a thick mist.

"_Lumos_," she said, and her wand lit up - yet, despite the bright light, the corridor remained vague and nonspecific, like there was a repulsion Charm on it. Luckily, the book had warned her of this too. She'd never been down the boys' corridor before. If she'd still been inside her own dream, her mind might have invented something to fill the gap. But whatever this place was, it was outside her mind. She couldn't just will things to happen anymore.

She slipped into Peaks' dorm. She could tell it was like her own in shape and size, but beyond that she could see nothing - except for a shining light in the corner of the room. Peaks. She stood for a moment, watching, and thinking. She needed to practice, but she didn't want to give Peaks a nightmare. He hadn't done anything to her.

_No harm in taking a look, though,_ she thought. _A peek inside Peaks._

"_Alohamora,_" she said, jabbing her wand at the light. It swelled and elongated, stretching out into a disc of light no larger than a dinner plate, hovering over Peaks' face. Alex stepped forward and bit her lip. _What's the worst that can happen? It's just a dream_.

She leaned over and pushed her face into the light.

The world burst into full colour, and she found herself standing in an unfamiliar kitchen. Large, made of stone, it felt old fashioned, somehow, and she realised there weren't any electric appliances. A large iron AGA dominated one side of the kitchen, and Alex could feel the dry heat radiating from it. It smelled slightly of bacon. A bony woman was sitting at the oak table, and a fat man paced behind her. They were arguing, Alex knew, but she couldn't hear any words. She just knew it.

"Hello," said a boy's voice, and Alex jumped. Roland Peaks was standing in the kitchen doorway, watching everything with a look of detachment. He was a chubby boy, and short, with white blond hair and clear eyes. "You're Alexandra Potter."

"Yes," said Alex, unsure. She'd only meant to look. Would he remember this, in the morning? Would he be suspicious? "You're Roland, aren't you?"

Roland nodded. "Would you like to see my room?" he said, "I've got a telescope, you know."

Alex looked around the kitchen, before shrugging. "Sure," she said. _What I am doing here?_

He led her through a rarely used living room and up carpeted stairs. Roland's room was large, colourful, and cluttered. Moving posters of Quidditch teams hung on the walls; another poster was stuck to the ceiling above his bed, this one of a winking witch. Her robes kept fluttering up to reveal pink panties. Alex rolled her eyes.

"Nice," she said, and she moved into the sun by the bay windows. His telescope was there, pointing not at the sky but across the suburban street.

"Do you want to have sex?" said Roland, and Alex glanced back at him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at her eagerly. _Ew._

"Maybe I should go," she said, mostly to herself. There was nothing to do here. She touched the warm metal of the telescope. It felt so real.

"Oh," said Roland. "Okay."

"Do you have a mirror?" she asked. There were several ways to escape dreams, but a mirror would be easiest.

"Bathroom," said Roland, pulling out a pile of comics from under his bed. "Goodbye."

Alex found the bathroom easily enough. It gleamed white, and there was a large mirror over the sink. She looked into it, and saw herself looking back; the shining light on her forehead was still there.

_"Recludo_," she said, casting the spell once more. The light flashed brightly; suddenly she was back in the dark of Roland's dorm, her face hovering above his. _Weirdo_, she thought, before leaving the dorm. It was time to get down to work. It was time to find Daphne.

Once she was out of the boys dorms, the castle became clearer once more, and her light Charm revealed a world in colour. She began to wander, casting the Somementus Charm periodically, each time lighting Hogwarts up with twinkling stars. It was hard to keep track of them, though, and she found herself walking in circles more than once. Finding the Slytherin dorms was going to be harder than she thought.

She decided to pick one light and pursue it. If it wasn't Daphne, then she could try again, and again, until it was. The light led her upwards and into the East wing, and Alex began to suspect who it was she was tracking. And then she came out at a T junction, and she knew exactly where she was. _Of all the people I could pick, it would have to be him_.

A gargoyle shaped like a griffin loomed in a dark alcove in the wall, and beyond it Dumbledore's office. Alex turned to follow a different light, but paused. What did Albus Dumbledore dream of? Surely more interesting things than Roland Peaks. She turned back to the gargoyle, and bit her lip. It was wrong, she knew. It wasn't like Roland. Dumbledore was always nice to her. He was a teacher. She should just leave.

She raised her wand.

"_Alohamora_," she said.

The gargoyle's eyes snapped open. They were a brilliant piercing blue, and they stared at her. Alex stepped backwards.

"Hello?" she said, her heart beating hard. Her small voice echoed in the dark. The gargoyle was still staring at her. And then it reared up, flapping its stone wings, and _shrieked_.

The sound hit Alex like a physical force, a powerful wind pushing her down the corridor. She stumbled, and, with a great tearing sound, a black rent slashed through her dream, like a claw through paper.

"No!" she called, struggling to stand, "stop!" But the wind kept blowing, and the dream was falling apart. The gargoyle shrieked again, and stamped a hoof. When it did, the stone around its feet cracked, and the dream shattered.

Alex gasped, and sat up in bed. She was tangled in her covers. Her heart was beating hard; her pyjamas were soaked in sweat. She tore the sheets away from her body, jumped out of bed, and walked over to the open window. The cool air washed over her, and she shivered slightly as her sweat evaporated. She stood like that for five minutes, breathing deeply, letting herself calm down.

She was fine. It was just a dream.

* * *

_Dear Alex,_

_Could you get any more mysterious? "The thing I'm working on" - I'm sure you're doing it deliberately! But fine, make me wonder. Whatever it is it must be complicated, if you call it "tricky". But if you need help, you can always ask me. I owe Daphne myself. There's a lot that goes on in Slytherin you don't hear about._

_Hufflepuff has a pool? You somehow forgot to mention that. Of course, Slytherin has our own attractions. I could tell you about them, but I'd have to kill you._

_It was good to see Nott - a break from old ladies and ambitious men. He spent most of the time going on about Daphne, though. You should be careful around him - I think he thinks he's Daphne's protector, or something, and he kept asking about you. Vince and Greg were more fun. They're fair beaters, so they took turns at trying to hit me with bludgers as I looked for the snitch. I broke my leg, which was pretty painful, but Healer Ramsay had it cleaned up soon enough._

_Vince was rather proud of the whole thing. I think he's going to try out as beater next year. I fear it's gone to his head: he's been talking about playing for the Wimbledon wasps. _

_It's my birthday in four days. I don't think I mentioned it - so close to Christmas, they kind of merge together. Normally I have a party, but the ball is on the 21st this year, so it looks like instead of a party I'm going to be dancing with my parents' friends' daughters. Mother says next year I can have an extra big party to make up for it._

_An advance warning: my parents are going to be sending you a Christmas present, so you might like to get them something back._

_Thinking of you,_

_Draco_

* * *

_Dear Draco,_

_FOUR DAYS?! It's actually three now, as it took your letter a day to get here. How could you forget your own birthday? Mine's 31st July, by the way. Don't forget! Anyway, it's too late for me to get you a present, now - it's still a couple of days til the next Hogsmeade visit. Your Christmas present will just have to be your birthday present too. _

_Happy Birthday, though. I hope you have fun dancing with all those other girls. If any of them try any funny business, make sure to tell them the Girl Who Lived is your girlfriend. Boyfriend thieves are nothing next to Dark wizards._

_Just joking._

_Mostly._

_It's funny you mentioned that you'd like to help. There is, actually, something that would help a lot. I told you about Hufflepuff, now it's your turn! SO. Where's the entrance to the Slytherin common rooms? How do you get in?_

_Thanks!_

_Alex_

_xxx_

* * *

Alex joined Astrid in the library the day after her first foray into Somniamancy. The place was deserted, but they sat at Astrid's secluded table nonetheless.

"... and then it stamped on the floor and the dream ended," said Alex. She had told Astrid all about her dream - everything except what she saw inside Peaks. That was between her and Peaks.

"Mmm," said Astrid, not even looking up from her own book - a paperback, glossy and new. _Wandless_, it was called. Alex had heard of it. The story of a Squib passing himself off as a wizard and infiltrating the Ministry of Magic, the Hogsmeade Herald called it "this Christmas' must-read". The author was anonymous, and some wondered at how fictional it was.

While it sounded interesting, Alex had more important things to consider.

"Do you think it was the gargoyle that made me wake up?" she said, thinking aloud.

Violet eyes peeked over the top of the book. "What does it matter?"

"Well," said Alex, fiddling with her hair, "maybe I woke up naturally, _before _the gargoyle could attack me properly."

"And you're asking me... why?" said Astrid, returning to her book.

"Well, I got the book off you," said Alex.

"Yeah - _before _I'd read it," said Astrid. "And it's not my book - I just found it lying around, and thought it looked interesting."

"Oh," said Alex. The book didn't have the Hogwarts Library stamp in it, so she'd thought it was Astrid's. "Where'd you find it?"

"Unsorted section, behind one of the shelves."

Alex hadn't really looked at the unsorted section. She always used the library to look for specific books, either recommended by teachers or mentioned in other books. She very rarely just browsed. "Can you show me?" she said, and Astrid slammed her book down.

"I'm _reading_. Please shut up. Read your own damn book."

Alex rolled her eyes. Astrid was always like that. But there was something very harmless about it all. In fact, it was almost comforting - the common garden variety of dislike Astrid offered was tame compared to the looks of betrayal Susan still sent her way. Draco saw it differently, but she wasn't Draco.

She opened the Somniamancy book.

_… there are a variety of techniques which can be used to block Somniamancy. Distance and secrecy are the most mundane: if a wandering dreamer cannot reach or find you, they cannot invade your sleeping mind. Some security spells may also block dreamers, even if it is not their central intent. This will be especially true of Ideal Wards, which naturally focus less on the physical. An unsubtle but effective method is direct confrontation. A practicing dreamer has an unnatural level of awareness in their sleep. They will often be aware of any invaders, and once aware they can confront their adversary, and eject them from the dream by killing their dream body._

Alex shuddered, remembering how real Peaks' dream had felt. She didn't know any spells that could kill a person - not even close. If she caught someone in her dreams and wanted to eject them, she'd have to fight them physically. _Thank god this book was lost_. She doubted anyone else in Hogwarts had ever read it, stuck down the side of a shelf as it had been.

_An alternative to confrontation is to force oneself to wake. This can sometimes be difficult, and requires practice. However, it is most effective - only a sleeping person's mind can be entered with S__omniamancy. Still, it has the drawback of needing to be aware that one's mind is being attacked, which is not guaranteed. A skilled dreamer may be able to evade detection. As such, the truly paranoid may wish for a more certain means of defence._

_A digression: for many years rumours have persisted, in certain circles, of the existence of a branch of magic concerned with mental defence. This discipline is rumoured to be able to defend from not just Somniamancy, but also legilimency, veritic sorcery and the effects of Dementors. Some even claim it capable of repelling the I- curse. Needless to say, this author searched for signs of such magic for many decades, and found none. It is without a doubt a myth._

_Let us place ourselves back on the firm ground of fact. If one truly wishes to block all attempts at invasion by foreign dreamers, a dreamcatcher is required. This is a complex magical artefact which, when placed over a sleeper's bed, prevents all access to dreams. There is no countering one, or getting around it. The only way to bypass a dreamcatcher is to destroy it in the physical world, or to catch a practicing dreamer as they wander beyond their own mind. In the next chapter we shall cover the specific process by which a dreamcatcher may be made. First, however, it is helpful to offer an overview of a dreamcatcher's function, so as to orient ourselves..._

Alex flicked ahead, frowning. Was the gargoyle a dreamcatcher? A sentence caught her eye. _While it is theoretically possible for a dreamcatcher to record the identity of the would-be invader, the method for achieving this continues to elude this author. _Alex breathed a sigh of relief: she'd been waiting all day for a summons to the Headmaster's office, to answer questions about last night. But it seemed that she would get away with it.

_A dreamcatcher is like a lock on the door of the mind: it blocks all entry. A dreamer, when they encounter such a mind, will be forced to move on_.

That didn't sound like the Gargoyle at all, Alex thought. It hadn't just blocked her, it had ripped her dream apart and sent her hurling back awake. Which meant that gargoyle was something else. Something _more_. Had Dumbledore enchanted it himself?

"I'm so screwed," she muttered.

"Regretting your midnight stroll?" said Astrid, looking up. "Honestly, what did you expect? You might be the Girl Who Lived, but this is _Dumbledore_. He could chew you up and spit you out before breakfast."

"I know that," said Alex, feeling rather stupid. She hated it when people thought she was stupid, and she hated it twice as much when they were right. "But everything was going so _well_. All I need now is where Slytherin is... I don't suppose you know?"

"Why don't you ask your boyfriend?"

"I did. I should get his reply tomorrow."

"Well then," said Astrid, making a show of returning to her book, "looks like you don't need my help."

Alex's eyes narrowed. "_Do _you know where they are?"

Astrid didn't reply.

"I think they're somewhere near the dungeons," said Alex, watching Astrid for any sign that she might be right. "The Slytherins always head out towards the faculty tower, but I don't think they're in there. And the entrance to the dungeons is right next to it. Am I right?"

Astrid just smirked at her.

"Tell me!" said Alex, louder than she ever would during term. One of the Hufflepuff prefects had told her Madam Pince used a supersensory Charm to catch troublemakers.

"And if you find the Slytherin common rooms, what then?" said Astrid. "You'll send Daphne a few bad dreams?"

"Well, yeah," said Alex. _Now she puts it like that, it does sound a bit lame._

"And I suppose you'll be taking credit for these dreams, so that everyone knows you got your own back?"

"That's the idea," said Alex, thinking she could see where Astrid was going, "but of course I'll do it in a way that she can't tell a teacher about."

"And then what?"

Alex frowned. "Then we're even."

"And you think Daphne will be happy at leaving things even?"

_Ah. _Alex understood. "She'll want to get _me _back," she said, thinking back to what Remus Lupin had said. He told her to abandon everything with Daphne. To roll over, to forgive and forget. To end what would otherwise become an endless cycle of fighting. But he'd said something else too. Something about her father. "Unless I get her in a way that finished it forever."

Astrid smiled. "Exactly," she said, leaning forward. "If you want to end this, and end it so you win forever, you need something that'll make her give up for good. Like you did with Granger."

"That wasn't-" Alex began, but she decided against it. Though she'd never intended things to go as far as they did, it couldn't be denied that she'd beat Hermione. There would never be a question, now, of who was the better witch.

"Dreams aren't enough," Astrid continued, "not even really bad ones. Dreams are just dreams. Afterwards, you wake up."

* * *

_Dear Alex_,

_Happy Birthday to me! Just had breakfast with Mother and Father. Will be opening my presents just before lunch, and after Mademoiselle Tremblay will come to fit the robes for the ball._

_Just wanted to send a note now, while I had time. You probably won't hear from me again until Christmas!_

_Draco_

_P.S: If you want to know where Slytherin is, you'll have to tell me what you're planning first._

* * *

Christmas approached. The last opportunity to buy and send presents in Hogsmeade was the 23rd, so Alex got up bright and early to make her way down to the small town. As it was the holidays she was permitted to walk around Hogsmeade alone, but she still had to be escorted there by a prefect.

"Look, Potter, let's make a deal," said Egbert Lumpy, a sixth year Gryffindor prefect more commonly known as 'Eggs'. He was tall, pointy-nosed and inexplicably bald.

"What kind of deal?" said Alex, following Eggs out into the snow. Though it'd been falling for over a day now, the snow was only just beginning to settle, so the grass was still visible, pointing up through the thin layer of white. She cast a warming Charm on the both of them by reflex.

"I don't need to go to Hogsmeade," Eggs said, holding out his hand to let the snow melt on his palm. "I don't _want _to go to Hogsmeade. Nothing's going to happen to you if you go alone - so long as you don't tell anyone."

Alex considered. The way to Hogsmeade was pretty simple: you just followed the path. And it wasn't like it was a _dangerous _path.

"All right," she said, shrugging. She didn't particularly fancy hanging around with Eggs all day anyway, and if something _did _happen to her - well, it would be Eggs who got in trouble, not her.

Eggs grinned.

"Good on ya!" he said, and Alex dodged his hand as he went to ruffle her hair. She wasn't a dog. "You're a good sport. Have fun!"

So, two years before she was supposed to, Alex walked down to Hogsmeade alone. Without the distraction of conversation, it was a much longer walk than she remembered. As she walked she tried to think of what to buy Draco for Christmas. _A book? No, he doesn't like reading much, and he's got the Malfoy library anyway. Jewellery? Too girly. Robes? I don't know his size. Stationary? Too boring. A gift card? Unimaginative. Chocolates? Yawn._

It was frustrating. It would be so easy to get something for herself. A book, or some nice robes, or Potions ingredients... but Draco was so much harder. _Boys!_

But there was something that she knew boys _were _interested in. _If Daphne can do it, so can I_ - but she knew straight away it wasn't true. Just the idea made her wrinkle her nose in disgust. Something else... _maybe something to do with Quidditch. But what? He already has a broom, and balls, and robes. Hell, he even has a half-pitch!_

She decided to shop for the others first. They were easier. And Draco's parents would be easiest.

The door of _Manor _jingled when she entered, revealing a shop almost as large as a warehouse. A huge, high ceilinged room of grey stone, Alex could tell from the way her breath misted before her that it was just as cold inside as out. The air was fresh with the smell of plants, and the faint sound of trickling water mixed with the whisper of hushed voices. The front of the shop, where Alex had entered, was full of shelves and racks upon which small ornaments were displayed, like those in the windows, but beyond the stacks the shop opened up to display the larger pieces - the fountains, statues and so on. It was almost like an indoor garden.

She wandered deeper into the shop, looking around for a suitable gift. A garden table made entirely of moving water captured her attention. Several books, completely dry, sat on top, but when she pushed hard against the cool surface her hand went in. Though the water rushed and swirled around it, when she took her hand away it was completely dry.

_Elemental Table_, a card on top read, _Will commune with any natural water source, such as a river or stream. Wildlife friendly. 100G._

Alex gasped at the price. It was far too expensive. Not only was it more than she could afford to be spending frivolously, it was also more than was appropriate for Draco's parents - even if they were the Malfoys. Reluctantly, Alex moved on, but it didn't take long for her to come across another wonder.

A few steps away stood a bronze statue of a naked man, life sized and muscled like an Olympic athlete. He posed with his weight on his back leg, as if poised to leap forward, and in one hand he held a torch filled with yellow-orange flame. It reminded Alex of the Statue of Liberty, the way he held it up.

The statue blinked, and Alex let out a squeak of surprise, jumping backwards, but it didn't move again. _The detail on his face is amazing_, she thought, leaning in for a look. She could make out the individual hairs of his eyebrows, the crinkles in his lips. Hovering to his side was the card.

_Prometheus by Viola Merret._ _Mythological wizard who stole fire magic from the gods. One-of-a-kind piece, with Gubraithian Fire torch. Gubraithian Fire will never extinguish. Price on request._

Alex dreaded to think how much such an item cost, if _this _shop didn't want to show the price. Clearly she was in the wrong section.

"Can I help you?" said a girl's voice. Alex turned to face her - she was tall and willowy, almost unhealthily thin, with long brown hair and a long face. "Oh!" said the girl when she saw Alex's face. "Hi, Alexandra."

_Oh crap,_ thought Alex. She had no idea who the girl was. _I guess she goes to Hogwarts._ _This isn't awkward at all._

"Er - hi!" Alex said, trying to cover up her unfamiliarity with cheer. "Fancy seeing you here!"

"Well, you know, Professor McGonagall knows Mr Carver," the girl said, flicking her hair out of her eyes. It immediately slipped back.

"Oh, right," said Alex. She had no idea who Mr Carver was either.

"So after I got an O in my Transfiguration OWL last year, Professor McGonagall put in a good word for me, you know? It's boring work, to be honest. Mr Carver doesn't let me help with the pieces. But it's all experience, right?"

"Right," said Alex, truly lost. Mr Carver, she supposed, was the owner of _Manor_. "Um, I should look around more. I need to find a present for the Malfoys, but this stuff is all a bit..."

"Expensive?" said the girl, and Alex nodded. "Well, come on then! I'll help you."

The girl without a name led her back over to the entrance, where the smaller items were. She showed Alex a pair of miniature fighting knights, a cage of fairy lights, and a selection of scented never-melting candles. But Alex waved them all away. She had her eye on something else.

"How about one of these?" she said, pointing to a collection of robins made of living silver. They were still right now, but Alex knew they could move and even fly. She remembered there was a set of three in the window, but these were available as individuals.

"Ohh, very nice," said the girl. "I saw Mr Carver make a set last week - amazing stuff. It took all day. They're one of the more expensive ones, though. Two Galleons."

Alex bit her lip. Two Galleons was a lot. She only had five galleons on her - all the rest of her money was in London. But she couldn't get Mr and Mrs Malfoy a cheap present - they were the _Malfoys_. Draco's _socks _were worth a small fortune, never mind the rest of his wardrobe, and last year Mr Malfoy had dug into his apparently bottomless coffers to make a ten thousand Galleon donation to St. Mungo's Hospital.

"I'll take it," she said. Lily's present wouldn't cost much, so that meant she still had a couple of Galleons for Draco. _That should be more than enough_. Ten minutes later she left _Manor_ with the robin in a small cage, wrapped in tissue paper and tied with ribbon. As she left, _Obscurus Books_ caught her eye across the street. _It can't hurt to have a quick look, can it?_ _Maybe I'll find something for Lily._

She left the bookshop - which was actually a publishing house - an hour later, carrying a book on fairies for Lily and a book on Undoing for herself.

_One Galleon and a handful of Sickles left._ If she spent it all, she wouldn't have any money for the rest of the year. _Hopefully I'll find something for one Galleon_, she thought. Now that the Malfoys were out of the way, and Lily, she just had Draco to buy for.

She made her way down the street aimlessly, entering every shop in the vain hope that the perfect present would be sitting on a shelf, just waiting for her to buy it. But the joke shop _Dervish and Bangs_ had nothing, nor did the games shop _Follets_. The toys inside _Mr Zukel's Wonderous Workshop_ were interesting, but Draco was too old for that stuff now. She had to pull herself away from the robes in _Fixworth's_, painfully aware of her shortage of change. There was nothing for Draco there.

Alex entered the apothecary without much hope. It was run by a little old lady called Madam Scrone, and was much worse than the one in Diagon Alley. It had none of Diagon's exotic ingredients, nor its sense of fun. There was little chance she'd find something for Draco in there. But one ingredient did make her smile. They looked like small grey rocks, only hairy like a peach.

_Bezoars_, the glass tub was labelled, _antidote to many poisons. 3S_ _each_.

Alex opened her distinctly Muggle purse and looked inside. She had one Galleon, four Sickles and a fistfull of Knuts. _Oh, go on then_. She bought a bezoar and had it jarred. It would make a perfect gift for Professor Dumbledore.

After a quick lunch at the Three Broomsticks - a bacon sandwich, with salad and a Butterbeer - she returned to her search for the perfect present. She was beginning to think that she'd have to get Draco chocolates from _Honeydukes _when she came across a Quidditch shop. It was a small one, with just one window and no name. A pair of broomsticks sat in the window display, and both of them looked rather old.

She entered holding her breath, hoping for a miracle. But one look around was enough to make her heart sink. Everything was old, worn. It was a second-hand shop.

An elderly man, bent over a cane, pottered out of the back room. "Can I help you, young miss?" he said. His balding head was covered in liver spots, but here and there a few strands of long white hair survived.

"I was just looking," she replied, though she'd had every intention of leaving. But now she'd said it she had to follow through, if only for politeness. So she wandered around, looking through baskets of cracked Beater's bats, cages of snitches whizzing around with half-broken wings, and a wide variety of brooms in various states of disrepair, mounted on the wall.

"I expect," said the man, walking slowly over to where she was looking at a bright red Cleansweep Three, "that you're doing some last minute Christmas shopping. Is that right?"

"Uh-huh," said Alex, still looking at the Cleansweep. Even second hand brooms were expensive, she realised - the Cleansweep was selling for nine Galleons.

The man chuckled, before his chuckles turned into a hacking cough. "Not the sort to think ahead, are you?" he said once he recovered, peering at the broom himself.

"Tell me about it," Alex muttered, wishing she'd got Draco's present long ago. _I should've ordered something from Diagon Alley by owl a month ago._

The man gestured at the wall of brooms. "A discerning lady like yourself will find nothing of interest here," he said, "come, come." He walked back over towards the counter, next to which was a tall glass cabinet.

"What do you mean, a discerning lady?" said Alex, following him. And why not? It wasn't like she was going to find anything anywhere else.

The man snorted. "You are a Hogwarts student, are you not?"

"Well, yes," said Alex, "but that doesn't mean-"

"Oh, but I think it does," said the man, and he opened, with difficulty, a drawer under the counter. From it he withdrew a single key. "The fine cut of your robes, the way you speak, the way you carry yourself... Hogwarts."

Alex looked at her robes. She was wearing a warm black outer robe she'd bought in November, with a white under-robe with her green jumper underneath. They seemed pretty normal to her.

"And of course," the man continued, "even I, old as I am, can recognise Alexandra Potter."

"Oh," said Alex. _I should've guessed_. Apparently someone had taken her photo at the Sorting Feast, and it had made its way onto page two of the Daily Prophet. But this time, she'd actually thought he hadn't known her. Normally when people recognised her they greeted her like an old friend, calling her "Alexandra", like they'd known her all her life.

The old man finally stilled his shaking hands enough to unlock the cabinet door and open it up. "Ah, here we go," he said, and he carefully took out a pair of goggles. They looked like something a crazy Victorian inventor might wear. "_These _were the goggles worn by Wendel Cartwright of the Holyhead Harpies throughout the 1965 season," he said, holding them up to the light. "What do you think?"

_That's_ _more like it_, Alex thought, and she smiled in relief. Something worn by a famous player - that was the kind of thing she could get Draco. "They're very nice," she said, "but Draco's favourite team is Puddlemere United. Do you...?"

The man smiled. Alex half expected him to be missing half his teeth, but he had a full set, pearly white. Such teeth looked strange on such an old man. "Heh," he coughed, "I have just the thing." He reached back into the cabinet and pulled out a pair of fingerless gloves, made of some kind of material like leather, black with red lines running through it like veins. "These were worn by one of the Puddlemere chasers in the 1979 cup final. A rather precious pair of gloves, given their owner."

"Their owner?" said Alex. The gloves were perfect - Draco would love them, she knew it.

The man looked at Alex in something like surprise.

"Why, James Potter, of course!"

Alex was stunned speechless.

_I want them_. But that created a problem - she still needed to get Draco a present. Could she give him something of her father's? _She_ didn't even have anything that belonged to him. _But it's not like Draco's going anywhere,_ she thought, _he'll keep them safe. And maybe one day, we'll share everything anyway..._

"I'll take them," she said, and the moment she made the decision she knew it was the right one. The thought of giving the gloves to Draco filled her with an unfamiliar warmth - she couldn't wait to see his reaction. She was looking forward to it more than seeing what _he_ had got _her_! He would surely know how much the gift meant. It was perfect.

"Heh, I thought you might," said the man, and he put Wendel Cartwright's goggles back into the cabinet. "Normally these gloves would be three Galleons. But I think for the daughter of the man who wore them, I can bring it down to two, eh?"

Alex's heart sank. She only had one Galleon. _If only I'd seen this before I'd bought those books!_

"I, er, I only have one on me," she said, embarrassed. It was amazing how quickly she'd become accustomed to not having to think about money. But the man didn't seem to mind in the least.

"No matter!" he said, and he produced a heavy folder, bound with string, from under the counter. "We can draw a note up, quick as you please." He flipped it open and tore out one of the pieces of parchment. He passed it to Alex, along with a quill.

The parchment was some kind of legal document for transferring money. Most of it was written already, but blank spaces had been left for personal details.

"Now, let's see..." said the man, "you put my name in _here_. Mister Gerald Thomas Tarr, if it please you." Alex did as he said, the letters on the page shifting as she wrote to provide enough space. "And _here_ you should write your name, in full." Alex signed it _Alexandra Alice Potter _and moved on to the next gap.

The sheet of paper burst into flame, incinerating itself to nothing in less than a second.

"Heh," said Mr Tarr, tearing another sheet out of the folder, "got your own name wrong. That's a new one. Let's try again."

Alex blushed and quickly scribbled his name into the first blank, before hovering over the second. Contrary to what he probably thought, Alex wasn't an idiot. She was pretty sure she'd spelled her name correctly. And then it clicked - it wanted her _full _name.

_The Lady Alexandra Alice Potter, Countess of Shrewsbury_.

"Better," said Mr Tarr, and they filled the rest out quickly. At the bottom there was a space for a signature. "That's for you," Tarr said, and she signed her name in the gap. "Very good," he said, and he placed the gloves into a box and bagged it. "Perhaps tell your friends about this place, eh?"

"I will!" she said, and she walked out.

_Finished! _Now all she had to do was send it all off. The Owl Office was a tall building not unlike a windmill, situated a way away from the high street. It was packed inside - though the building was large, most of it was for owls, not humans. They sold envelopes, cards and some stationary, but the big queues were for the wrapping service and the postowls.

Alex joined the wrapping queue first and, as she waited, she used some of their parchment to scribble quick notes to the recipients. After twenty minutes of waiting she got her presents wrapped, before moving over the to post queue.

"You want to send it to Dublin, you say?" said the young clerk from behind the glass.

"That's right," said the gruff man in front of her. He was wearing one of those pointy hats that old wizards wore sometimes. "What of it?"

"Well, let's see," said the clerk, and he pulled out a huge map, far too big to fit on the counter. He flattened a portion of it and weighed the corners down with stationary. "Here we are," he said, placing a pin somewhere in the Scottish highlands. He pulled out a strange metal contraption that looked something like a drawing compass. He placed one end on Hogsmeade and twirled it about, adjusting the length of the circle three times before he seemed to reach a decision.

"Here," he said, placing a pin further South, "we have an office in Durham, though you'll need a tawny to get there. And after Durham..." he repeated the process, before putting a pin in Wales. "Another tawny will get it to the Holyhead office, and from there it's simple," - he placed a pin in Dublin - "a pygmy will be enough to get it across the water. Once it's in Dublin a delivery owl will take it to the final destination."

"Two tawnies and a pygmy?" said the man, and he didn't sound happy, "how much will all that cost me?"

"Twenty Knuts, sir," said the clerk after cross-checking a few tables.

"Twenty Knuts!" the man replied, "back when the Ministry ran things, they'd do it with a single eagle for ten!"

"My apologies, sir, but twenty Knuts is the price," said the unfortunate clerk, and the grumbling man paid up. And then it was Alex's turn.

Her own parcels were significantly more complicated than the man before. She was sending three, for a start, and they were all quite heavy. But after a lot of playing around with the map, the clerk sorted everything out, and she paid for both the postowls and the wrapping.

"They'll definitely get there in time for Christmas?" said Alex as she handed over her two Sickles.

"Owl Office guarantee," said the clerk, and he passed her the change. "Thank you for using the Owl Office, and Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!"

* * *

For the first time in her life, Alex had trouble sleeping on Christmas Eve. Christmas with the Dursleys was never a pleasant affair: some second hand clothes for her, all the most expensive toys for Dudley. The lunch was good, she supposed, but only when Aunt Marge didn't come. She always got drunk, and when she got drunk she got mean.

But this year she had presents from friends to look forward to, and a lunch cooked by Hogwarts' Elves. She didn't get to sleep until past midnight, and woke up at six o'clock. The moment she was awake she knew she wouldn't be getting back to sleep.

"Merry Christmas to me!" she said as she slipped out of bed. That was the only bad part: she'd be opening her presents alone. But just for this year: next year, she'd be celebrating Christmas with the Malfoys.

Her presents had appeared mysteriously at the foot of her bed, arranged in a pretty stack. The House Elves' doing, she guessed. She was surprised by the size of the pile: it was more than she'd got from the Dursleys in 11 years. She'd been expecting fewer.

The Malfoys, she knew, opened one present at breakfast, and the rest after lunch. _Screw that_. Waiting that long would be torture. She sat down in front of them and looked them over, feeling them, weighing them in her hands, appreciating the paper. It was clear which three came from the Malfoys: wrapped in silver paper with green bows, they were significantly more elegant than the cheery colour of the others. She decided to start with them.

The largest of them was almost certainly a book. _For Alexandra. With Regards, Lucius_. She opened it carefully, trying not to tear the paper. It opened surprisingly easily, and, as predicted, a book fell out. But when she took a closer look, she realised she wasn't quite right.

It wasn't a book - it was a diary. It was plain black, leather, with high quality parchment within. It was also completely blank. A note fell from the front.

_Alexandra,_

_Draco has told me of your intelligence and desire for knowledge. A girl such as you must have many thoughts in her head. As such, I feel a diary to be an appropriate gift. Within these pages, you may bare your soul, safely unloading those thoughts which grow too weighty to stay within._

_Merry Christmas,_

_Lucius_

It was a thoughtful gift, but Alex didn't think she'd be using it any time soon. It would be a good notebook, though, if she ever ran out of parchment. She placed it aside, before pausing. _Funny_... she thought, for a moment, that she'd seen a flash of gold on the diary's front. But a closer examination revealed plain black leather. _Maybe I should've got more sleep_, she thought. _Nah - presents!_

The next present was from Narcissa. Alex's eyes widened when she saw the box: it was marked with the logo of Smith's of London's - one of the most expensive jewellers in Britain. A charm bracelet lay within, just like the one Narcissa had been wearing - though with fewer charms. A card beneath the velvet told her they would keep her dry, warm, and undisturbed by the wind. It was a generous gift indeed. Alex was suddenly glad she'd not skimped on her present to the Malfoys.

The last present had to be from Draco, then. It was the smallest by far: it looked like a card. Curious, she opened it. A letter and a key were inside.

_Dear Lady Shrewsbury,_

_It gives me great pleasure to welcome you to the Abingdon Club, sponsored by Master Malfoy. _

_As you are no doubt aware, the Abingdon Club started life in 1544 when a group of like-minded friends gathered to discuss issues of mutual interest. Historically, the Abingdon Club is most famous for hunting, and our clubhouse in Westminster possesses the only mounted manticore in the British Isles. Traditionally the presentation of a trophy was a necessary requirement of entry to the club, but in 1904 the club began admitting members by sponsorship. In modern times, Ministry regulations have made the sport of hunting more difficult, but members of our club still enjoy the social aspects of the organisation._

_We look forward to seeing you in the clubhouse. Merely enter with your key and our man Henry will be happy to show you around. There are many trophies of note to be seen, and our library is the third largest in Britain._

_Good Hunting!_

_Charles Grundswick-Hector_  
_President_

It was, it had to be said, a strange present. Alex had never heard of the Abingdon Club, nor had she ever expressed an interest in hunting. But she'd give Draco the benefit of the doubt on the matter. _Maybe there's something more to the club_. And it _did _have the third biggest library in Britain. Sure, Hogwarts had the largest, but she wouldn't be at Hogwarts forever.

She put the letter aside and picked up another present. It was the biggest of the lot, clumsily wrapped and heavy. _To Alex. Merry Christmas! From Remus. _She ripped the paper off eagerly.

When she saw what it was, a lump formed in Alex's throat. She tried to swallow it away, but it wouldn't go, and she did nothing to stop her silent tears. Remus had come through on his promise. He'd sent her a photo album. Trembling, Alex lifted the cover. A single moving photo sat in the centre of the first page. Her parents.

They were both of them young, good looking, and full of life. The photo had been taken in a park. As Alex watched, they linked hands and spun in a circle, laughing silently together. Her hair was from her father, she realised. Her mother's hair was a brilliant red, the colour of rust, and she had the same brilliant green eyes that Alex did.

For the first time in her life, Alex regretted being a metamorphmagus. She'd never changed anything about herself dramatically, but nor was her appearance entirely natural. She'd made hundreds of tiny changes over the years, according to her whims, and the result was that she didn't particularly resemble her parents.

She looked through the entire album before moving on to the final two presents. One was from Lily, and was full of makeup. Alex remembered her last attempt at using it with a grimace. _Well, there's certainly enough here to practice with_. The last present was a mystery. She had no idea who it was from. She was fairly sure Susan wouldn't send her a present. Was this from the Dursleys? Did they even know how to use owl post? It felt like clothes inside, which _was_what they'd always given her in the past.

She opened the present to reveal a silvery cloak, unbelievably soft. It was cool to the touch, and slid through her hands easily, like silk. _Definitely not from the Dursleys_. She looked at the discarded wrapping paper - a note sat inside.

_Alex,_

_Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to its rightful owner. _

_AD_

_Dumbledore! _Dumbledore had sent her the cloak - though, as the note said, it really was hers already. Still, she was glad she'd sent him the bezoar, even if it was something of a joke gift._ I wonder why my father lent to to him_, she thought. It was a beautiful cloak, to be sure, but Dumbledore had plenty of cloaks.

She tied it around her neck and went to the bathroom to use the mirror. It was very handsome, even combined as it was with her pyjamas. Then she drew it close around her and her body disappeared. Her head was floating in mid air, as if she'd been decapitated.

"_No way_," she said, and she let the cloak fall open again. Her body re-appeared. "That is _so _cool." She tied the cloak closed with the toggles, and put the hood up. She disappeared entirely.

That gave her an idea.

The Restricted Section of Hogwarts' library was not small. There were many ways for a book to end up there, from containing curses, to the whim of a teacher, to Ministerial decree. According to the Ministry of Magic, there were certain spells which could not be mentioned in books. Any that did - either because they predated the ban, or out of rebelliousness - would end up in the Restricted Section.

Unsurprisingly, the Restricted Section was almost deserted when Alex slipped past the barrier. It was Christmas Day, after all. A portrait hung on the end of a bookcase, standing vigil over the divide, but Alex was invisible. So long as she was silent, the portrait would never know.

She was surprised to find that the restricted books were organised just as well as the main library. She'd expected a confusing jumble of books with no order, but the bookcases were arranged by topic - an "A to Z" of interesting magic. Some were known to her, like alchemy, curses, and transmogrification. Others, though mysterious, had vaguely familiar names: legilimency, cryptomancy, necromancy. A few were quite obvious: Potions was still Potions, ritual magic had a large section, and one small bookcase was simply marked "esoteric". Most shelves, however, were completely new to her. She'd never realised there were so many obscure branches of magic, beyond those taught at Hogwarts. She guessed that somewhere in the Restricted Section she could find more books on Somniamancy, if she wanted.

But first she just wanted to look around. She had plenty of time, after all - lunch was still several hours away. So she wandered the aisles with her head bent sideways, letting her eyes travel across the titles of the books as she walked. Many of them lacked markings of any kind, some were in strange languages, but there were quite a few which looked no different to regular books.

Some of the books had cards stuck to their spines, and those ones Alex avoided. They were all cursed, and the cards gave instructions on how to safely use them. But the others were safe to touch, and touch them she did. She spent hours just looking through contents pages and introductions, sampling a dozen branches of magic. Logology was all about casting Charms on words, and was how the Ministry tracked the traffic of illegal spells. Cryptomancy was a branch of Charms all about keeping secrets. And alchemy was not, as Alex had initially thought, some kind of strange mixture of Potions and Transfiguration. It was a more reflective practice, apparently, and had something to do with the soul.

Eventually, she made her way to more familiar ground and found herself in the Potions section. It was the largest subject by far, the size of Transmogrification and Charms combined. Someone - Madam Pince, she supposed - had divided it up into many sub-sections. And then Alex found it: _Sleep Potions_.

If she was to execute a better revenge on Daphne, perhaps this was the place to look. She didn't want to abandon Somniamancy entirely - not after all the work she'd put into it. _Maybe I can use a Somniamancy AND a potion_. It would be justice: Daphne had got Alex with a potion, so this would balance them out. So she took down a half dozen promising books, sat cross-legged on the floor, and began to read.

She found the perfect potion in _Fantasy No More_, a book all about making dreams more real. Even alone as she was, some of the book's illustrations made Alex blush - it was focused on a rather different kind of dream to the kind Alex would send Daphne. Still, she thought it would work. She'd get Draco to slip Daphne the potion, then at night she'd enter Daphne's dreams. The dreams would turn to nightmares, and within the nightmare Alex would confront Daphne. She'd tell her: leave me alone - or else.

And then Daphne would wake up, and find that the nightmare was real. That whatever happened to her in the nightmare, happened in real life too. If she cut herself in the nightmare, the cut would appear on her body. If she got a bruise in the nightmare, she'd bruise in the waking world too. Not knowing about the potion, she'd think Alex could do anything to her, any time. And Alex would have won.

There were dangers, of course. The potion wasn't just limited to cuts and bruises. _But I'll be in control_, Alex thought. _I'll just scare her - nothing worse than that. _And anyway, people tended to wake up before anything _too_bad happened to them in their dreams. Just like she'd done, with Dumbledore's gargoyle.

It was, Alex thought uncomfortably, Dark magic. It was not adult content alone which placed it in the Restricted Section. The potion would resist reversal quite powerfully - while you still were dreaming, the effects on the body could not be easily undone. But once awake, the wounds would be just like any other. Alex had spent several hours in Madam Pomfrey's care, and in the end Snape had to come to brew her an antidote. She could've lost the use of her voice forever. A few cuts and bruises were nothing compared to that. Draco had broken his leg and shrugged it off as nothing.

Yes, it would work very nicely. It would feel dangerous to Daphne, but it was actually quite safe. She copied out the recipe, checked it three times, then put all the books back exactly as she'd found them.

The clocktower bell rang twice and Alex's tummy gurgled in anticipation. _Time for lunch_. She returned her new cloak to Hufflepuff and made her way to the Great Hall.

The Hall had been redecorated for Christmas. A huge tree grew out of the floor in the centre of the room, reaching right up to the invisible rafters, and fairies fluttered in and out of its branches, flashing green and red. The House tables had been taken away, too. In their place sat a single table, decked out in full Christmas cheer, with candles, crackers and colourful paper hats at each place.

"Ah, Miss Potter!" said Dumbledore, standing up as she walked in. His paper hat was magnificent: bright pink, it was a perfect replica of Professor McGonagall's witch's brim. It clashed horribly with his red and green robes. The table was already more than half full, with teachers and students sitting together. "Come, come!" he said, gesturing towards a seat, "there's a place for you next to Miss Greengrass."

Daphne spun in her seat to face her, a look of surprise on her face. The Slytherin girl was looking positively radiant, her white blonde hair long and artfully messy, her green and silver paper crown perched jauntily on her head.

_Well, there goes Christmas_. Alex paused for only a moment before taking the place with a fake smile. She was just a few seats down from Professor McGonagall, who sitting opposite Dumbledore at the centre of the table.

"Merry Christmas, Alex!" said Daphne, and she held out an enormous cracker. "Pull a cracker with me?"

Alex tried not to let her surprise show. _She wants to play games, does she? _

"Of course!" said Alex, with as much girly charm as she could muster. She grasped the cracker and pulled.

_BANG! _Alex jumped; the cracker exploded with a puff of purple smoke. A figurine of a ballerina fell onto the table, where she picked herself up and started to dance.

"Oh, how cute!" said Daphne, watching the ballerina stumble when she pirouetted into a goblet. "You should take her."

"Oh, no, I couldn't -"

"I insist," said Daphne, and she pushed the dancer towards Alex. Disoriented, it danced towards the edge of the table.

"She doesn't have much spatial awareness, does she?" said Alex, giggling as she rescued it from certain death.

"Oh my goodness," said Daphne, delicately grasping Alex's wrist to expose her bracelet. "Is that a Smith's original?"

Alex grinned, genuinely pleased. "A gift from Mrs Malfoy," she said, glancing at Daphne while the other girl was looking at the bracelet. "That's a new robe, isn't it?" she said, nodding at Daphne's dress. It was, it had to be said, very beautiful - a deep forest green, long sleeved and embroidered in lace, it made Daphne look nothing less than a princess. "It's beautiful."

Daphne ducked her head shyly, a small smile on her mouth. "It's from Henry," she said, glancing down the table. Alex followed her gaze - Henry Talbot was down the other end of the table, sandwiched uncomfortably between Professors Winters and Flitwick. Daphne's second year boyfriend was a slightly soft looking boy, not fat, but not thin either, with long brown hair that fell in curtains in front of his eyes. When he saw them looking he waved, before cocking his head. He looked confused.

"Right now he's wondering how it is we're sitting together and Hogwarts still stands," whispered Daphne, and Alex laughed - though she too was wondering the same. Not that she wasn't having fun.

"Boys!" she said, rolling her eyes, and Daphne laughed.

"You two are scary, you know that?" said a boy opposite - Roland Peaks, of all people. He was sitting there half-gaping at them.

A wild impulse took Alex. "How's the telescope, Roland?" she said, enjoying the look of confusion on his face. He opened his mouth as if to ask a question, but he was interrupted.

_Ting ting_. The tell-tale sound of a spoon against glass hushed the table, and Dumbledore stood.

"You must forgive an old man," he said, "here we all are, and yet I seem to have forgotten the food!" Alex withheld a snort - Dumbledore forgot nothing. But everyone laughed indulgently, and Dumbledore actually chuckled himself. "Yes, yes. A mistake easily remedied! Bon appetit!"

He sat back down, and the food appeared to cheers. There were no courses: starters, mains and desserts appeared all at once, spread all over the table. In front of Alex was a jug of gravy, a plate of cheese, a mound of glistening golden roast potatoes, and a chocolate cake. For several minutes the table was ruled by calls for this or that dish, and a dance of plates began as everyone tried to get their favourites.

"I hear the Malfoy's ball was a success," said Daphne as they dug in. A few months ago Alex might have eaten such a delicious meal like a race, but she now ate slowly, with delicacy and grace. Just like Daphne did. _Is that Dumbledore's game?_ she thought. _He must have sat us together for a reason. He wants us to realise how similar we are?_

"Oh yes," said Alex, "the _Hogsmeade Herald _wrote a very nice piece about it."

"I saw," said Daphne, "_The Great and the Good Gather. _Henry's father was there, of course, and his younger sister. I'm surprised you didn't go yourself..."

"Well, the invites were sent out last year," said Alex, spearing some turkey, stuffing and potato all together. "But I'll be going next year."

"Maybe I'll be able to go too, if Lord Talbot invites me," said Daphne, glancing down to Henry again. "I hear the Viceroy of India actually arrived on a Himalayan Sky Elephant."

"Well, maybe I can speak to Mr Malfoy," said Alex, hardly believing what she was saying, "I'll tell him you'd like to come, and then you won't need an invite from the Talbots!"

"Would you really?" said Daphne, turning to Alex with wide eyes, "oh, that would be so amazing. It's _the_event of the year. I'd have to get a new robe, of course, but I'm sure father would understand..."

"We could go shopping together!" said Alex, getting carried away now. "In Paris!"

"In New York!" added Daphne, tossing her hair like a glamorous American model. Her paper crown fell off. "Whoops!" she said, fishing it out of her gravy. "I think it's dead."

Alex stared at the soggy crown and laughed, and Daphne joined her.

The rest of lunch passed in talk of dresses, giggles about boys, and some creative matchmaking wherein they planned to marry off Professor Winters to Snape. Entirely by accident, the game stopped being a game and Alex started to have fun. More fun than she'd had in a long time.

"Of course everyone would get them shampoo for a wedding gift," said Daphne.

"Maybe Professor Winters can charm his hair greaseproof," suggested Alex, her stomach aching from laughing so much. But not so much that she didn't want dessert. She let her fork slice into the chocolate cake, and went to take a bite.

A whiff of burnt coffee. _No! _Her instincts screamed; her fork froze in midair. Burnt coffee - Mordred's Draught. She'd come one bite and thirty seconds from her heart exploding within her chest. She pretended to take a drink of juice, looking at Daphne over the brim. Was it her? Had her apparent redemption been _all_an act? Had she just tried to kill Alex?

Her eyes slid from Daphne to Dumbledore. He was pretending to drink himself; their eyes locked. He'd been watching her. He offered her a mock toast, which Alex acknowledged with a small nod and a smile.

"Alex?" said Daphne, and Alex turned her attention back to the girl she was supposed to hate.

"Never mind," she said, putting her fork down. "Decided against dessert. You were saying?"

* * *

Alex was more than ready for the start of term when the holidays ended on January 5th. The castle had been empty for too long, and, though Alex could read about magic forever, it didn't make it any less lonely. She missed the noise of Hufflepuff. She missed Draco.

So, when the Hogwarts Express rolled into Hogsmeade, Alex was there to meet him and whisk him away to the privacy of the boathouse, where she intended to kiss him thoroughly.

"Where are we going?" Draco asked as she led him by the hand, pausing to steal chaste kisses whenever she was sure they were alone.

"You'll see," was all she replied, enjoying his confusion.

"We're going to the boathouse?" he said a couple of minutes later, when she turned to go down the long, damp steps leading to the lake.

"Maybe," she said, but the steps led nowhere else. She was quite pleased with her idea: she'd thought for a time about where they could hang out in private. The owlery was one choice, but all the owl crap limited its romantic potential. Nor did she like the idea of using some empty classroom, where a teacher could walk in at any time. The boathouse worked well: it was romantic, remote, and rarely used.

After a long walk the steps led outside, far beneath the castle at the bottom of the cliff. The boathouse wasn't much - a wooden shack covering some piers, with a watergate leading to the lake - but it was enough. Once they were inside the kissing started in earnest. Chaste pecks gave way to a battle of the lips, and Alex let Draco lead her to a wall. And then his hands slid down to her bum, and Alex stiffened.

"Sorry," said Draco, removing his hands.

"No, it's okay," said Alex, looking Draco in the eye. She wanted him to know she wasn't angry or anything. "Just... not yet, okay?" she said, and Draco nodded.

The mood changed, and they moved to sit on a bench.

"I saw the article in the paper about your ball," said Alex, smoothing imaginary creases in her robes. The House Elves were very good at ironing.

"It wasn't _my _ball," said Draco, frustrated, "but I guess it wasn't so bad. The Minister wished me happy birthday. Professor Dumbledore, too."

"Dumbledore was there?" said Alex, surprised. She'd thought he was at Hogwarts.

"Of course!" said Draco. "My father might disagree with him about stuff, but he's still Dumbledore."

"I suppose," said Alex, "thanks for your present, by the way. I was going to send you a thank you letter, but then I thought it would be better face to face."

"I'm glad you like it," he said, "it was Father's idea. He was the one who sponsored me, of course." He paused, and took Alex's hand. "And thank you for _your _present. I know what it means to you... Father's had a case commissioned to hold them."

Alex beamed. "I thought you'd like them," she said, certain now that it was the right thing. He'd treat them well. "I have something else to show you," she added, "something of my father's." She pulled the invisibility cloak out of her bag and put it on.

Draco sat up in surprise.

"An invisibility cloak!" he said, his eyes wide. Alex reappeared.

"Pretty cool, isn't it?" she said.

Draco was so distracted he didn't comment on the Muggle slang. "I've never seen one before," he said, rubbing the material between his fingers. "It's so light! You know, if Father knew you had that, he'd give you five thousand for it, no question."

Alex knew invisibility cloaks were rare, but she had no idea they were _that _valuable. It was worth twice all the gold she had.

"The cellars," said Draco.

"Huh?"

"The cellars," he repeated, "that's where Slytherin is. There's an engraving of a snake on the wall between the grain cellar and the spice cellar. You tell the snake the password and it lets you in."

Alex sat down. "Why're you telling me this now?" she said, "not that I'm not happy you're telling me."

Draco shrugged - something his father would no doubt disapprove of. "You trusted me. So I'm trusting you. Plus," - he grinned - "you still need the password."

Alex laughed. "You Slytherin you," she said, teasingly. "Your cunning and scheming ways have earned you a kiss."

"Speaking of scheming..." Draco said, after.

Alex bit her lip. "It's over," she said, "Daphne... she's changed. I think she's going to be nice now."

"A troll never drops his club," he said. Alex could guess the meaning - people didn't change.

"Well, this troll has," she said, "seriously, we sat together for Christmas and she was so nice."

"So she wants something," said Draco, "or is planning something."

Alex's eyes narrowed. "What did she do to you?" she asked, "you said in your letter you owed her - what did she do that's so bad?"

Draco's cheeks turned a light pink. "That's not the issue now, is it?" he said. "The point is that Daphne's an actress. I'm sure she charmed your socks off - _that's what she does_. But it won't last."

"I don't know why it's so hard for you to believe that she might genuinely like me," said Alex, getting frustrated. "We had a great time. She couldn't-"

"You're a Half-Blood," said Draco, bringing her up short.

"_What?_" Alex asked.

"Look, I didn't want to say it, but it's true," he said, holding his hands up in protest, "you're a Half-Blood. _That's _why Daphne can't like you."

Alex was stunned. She thought Draco'd given up all that stuff, after he stopped giving her books. Had he been thinking of her like that all along? "Half-Blood Alex"? Did he think he was _better_than her?

"I'll see you later, Draco," she said, and she turned to leave.

"Alex, wait!" he said, getting up.

She slammed the door on her way out.


	12. Revenge Is Not a Dish

**.**

**.**

**Alexandra Potter**

By Taure

_Chapter Twelve: Revenge Is Not a Dish_

_._

_._

Alex and Draco were back together by the time February arrived. After the events of the boathouse they had avoided each other for days, until Lily had intervened.

"Don't you think you're... overreacting?" she had said to Alex as they sat together in the stone garden. That high up, the cold January wind was blowing their hair wildly, but it was a good place for privacy in the winter.

"Maybe," said Alex, looking down at her hands. "But what if he really thinks that about me? That I'm just half a witch?"

"Then he's stupid," said Lily bluntly. "You've got more magic in you than he does in his little finger." Alex smiled, choosing not to correct the mistake. "A smile!" said Lily, throwing up her arms. "I was beginning to worry you'd become Niobe!"

Alex brushed off the obscure reference. "So... I guess I should apologise, then?" she'd said, and she had done so the next day. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but she'd found Draco and said sorry.

A couple of weeks later they were back to normal, as if it had never happened.

"Draco, will you pass the jam?" said Alex, spreading butter over her toast. Draco passed the strawberry jam and Alex gave him a smile - he remembered her favourite. "Thanks," she said, removing the canvass cover. "Anything in the news?"

"More on this new law they're trying to pass," said Draco, flicking through the _Hogsmeade Herald_. The post had just arrived in a flurry of owls, bringing with it the papers. Alex didn't need a subscription - she just read over Draco's shoulder. _MINISTER SUPPORTS BRA_, the headline said, and Alex snorted.

"They could've thought of a less silly name," she said, spreading a thin layer of jam over melted butter. "Isn't it meant to be serious?"

"To be fair, they _are_ missing two letters from the start. It's the _non-human _being registration act. But BRA is a bit more catchy than -" Draco paused a moment, frowning, "Nuh-bra?" he said. "Silent h?"

"Nuh-huh-bra," tried Alex, cocking her head."NH-bra?" She giggled at the looks they were receiving.

"You see the problem," said Draco, turning to his own toast.

"What're you talking about?" said Nott, taking a seat. As usual, he sat as far away from Alex as was possible. He was already dressed for class, his robes perfectly arranged. Draco used to do that too, before she'd got him to relax. _Thank goodness_. It was the height of winter now, so the boys were expected to wear their vaguely naval high-collared robes, while the girls had left dresses behind for long sleeved outers. Wearing them at breakfast just felt wrong to Alex.

"The legislative agenda," said Draco. He always did that - the moment he was around his Slytherin friends he became more formal, more like the Draco she'd met on the train.

"Fascinating," Nott replied, pouring some cereal.

"So do you guys have a Potions test today too?" said Alex, looking to Draco though she addressed both of them. He was looking down the table at something - at Daphne. She was absorbed in a letter, her breakfast forgotten. Alex thought she looked rather pale. "Draco?"

"Hmm?" he said, turning to her. He hadn't been listening.

"Never mind," said Alex, "I should go get ready for class," she said, finishing her toast. She kissed Draco on the cheek and was almost at the door when Draco caught up with her.

"I'll walk with you," he said. _That doesn't make any sense_, thought Alex.

"Slytherin's in the opposite direction," she said, the question in her voice.

"I'll double back," said Draco, quite firmly, and Alex shrugged. If he was late for class it wasn't her problem.

"All right," she said, her hand finding his by instinct. She led him towards Hufflepuff - through the grand stair, down the library cloisters, across the small courtyard leading to the kitchens. As they passed the library Draco looked over his shoulder, then around them.

"I have a favour to ask," he said, quietly, and Alex realised he'd waited until they were alone.

"That depends," she said, smiling. Was he going to kiss her there? "What is it?"

"Can I borrow your invisibility cloak?" he said, and Alex stopped short.

"Sorry?" she said, though she'd heard perfectly well.

"I know how important it is to you," - Alex doubted that very much - "but this is important."

"What do you need it for?" she asked. She'd only ever used it for sneaking into the library - she couldn't imagine what Draco wanted it for. "Not breaking into the girls dorms, I hope!"

"Well..." said Draco.

"You don't!" said Alex, shocked. "Draco!"

"Shhh!" he said, pressing his finger to her lips. Impulsively, Alex licked it. "Urgh!" he said, wiping it on his sleeve. "I'm serious," he said. "I need to see what Daphne was reading."

A dozen replies competed for attention. Hadn't they agreed to leave Daphne alone? Had she done something to him? What was special about the letter?

"Why?" she said. Draco shifted, and looked around again. He looked torn.

"I'd prefer not to say," he said, and Alex raised an eyebrow.

"Let me get this straight," she said. "You want to use _my _cloak, but can't tell me why?"

Draco winced, then nodded.

It was ridiculous - to ask so much, and to give so little. It wasn't reasonable. Didn't he trust her? _But that's not the question, is it? _she thought. _Do I trust him?_She looked into his nervous grey eyes and found only honesty there.

"All right," she said, half not believing her own words. "You can borrow it."

Draco let out a breath. "Thank you," he said, hugging her and kissing her forehead. She smiled into his shoulder. "Thank you thank you thank you!"

They continued to Hufflepuff - if Alex was lending him her cloak, the location of her House was a small matter - and he waited outside as she went to fetch it. When she returned, silvery cloth in hand, she had only one thing to say.

"_Don't _lose it."

* * *

"_Finite Incantatum,_" said Alex. As expected, nothing happened.

Alex glared at the metal weight on the desk before her. It was a dull and dirty black, with _8oz _marked on the top. Yet when she placed it on the scales, the needle pointed defiantly at four ounces. Alex sighed.

"Tricky, isn't it?" said Professor Winters' voice from behind her, and Alex looked up to find Winters watching her. _How long has she been there?_" What've you tried so far?"

Today's Charms class was an introduction to Undoing. Alex had quickly got the hang of the Undoing Charm - she'd been reading about it for long enough - and so Professor Winters had given her a more advanced task. While her peers were all shouting "_Finite!_" at levitating candles, Alex had been given a magically lightened weight to despell.

"I started with counteraction," she said, "using the Deadweight Charm. But it didn't work."

"Oh?" said Winters, coming round to crouch next to Alex's desk. She tapped the weight with her wand, before nodding. "Why not?"

"I'm not sure," said Alex, "it might be because your Featherlight Charm is better cast than my Deadweight Charm."

"That's certainly possible," said Winters with a smile, "you said _might_. Why else?"

"I looked them up in Spellman's Almanac," she said, pointing to a forbiddable tome sitting on her desk, pulled from one of the classroom bookshelves. "The Featherlight Charm is more powerful than the Deadweight."

"Which means?" prompted Winters.

"That my Deadweight Charm would have to be a _lot _better than your Featherlight to counter it."

"Do you know how much better?" said Winters.

Alex blinked - she hadn't thought to calculate it. "Hang on," she said, scribbling on a piece of parchment. Thirty seconds later she had it. "If the Featherlight Charm was cast at fifty Rells - its natural satisfaction point - the Deadweight would have to be cast with eighty."

Winters tapped the weight with her wand again.

"I cast this one at ninety," said Winters. "It's impossible for the Deadweight to overcome it."

"So counteraction is a dead end," said Alex, slightly surprised that Professor Winters could cast the spell with such mastery. The Rell Scale, which measured the level of perfection in spellcasting technique, only went up to one hundred.

"Not necessarily. Merely counteraction with the Deadweight Charm," said Winters. "Radley's Mass Manipulation Charm could do it - but that's NEWT-level magic. Did you try overwhelming it?"

"Just before you came over," said Alex.

"Try again," Winters said, so Alex raised her wand.

"_Finite Incantatum!_" she said, tapping the weight before reeling her wand away. The needle on the scales didn't move.

"Well cast," said Winters, "you could tighten the transition between two and five, but it's very good."

Alex blushed slightly with the praise, before frowning. "Didn't actually do anything, though," she said, pointing to the scales.

"Maybe, maybe not," said Winters, and she moved her wand in a complicated motion over the weight. "Hm. You've weakened the Featherlight Charm. A few more of those and you'd have it."

"So the solution is overwhelming?" said Alex, surprised. She thought there would be more to it.

"_One _solution is overwhelming," said Winters, "though an inelegant one. Even in a few years, when you'll be good enough to undo this with a single spell, it's the brute force approach, and won't work for everything. Sometimes you need to be more delicate."

"Unravelling, you mean," said Alex.

Winters gave her a smile. "Exactly. What do you know about the structure of the Featherlight Charm?"

"It's got two parts," she said, closing her eyes to remember, "the main effector, tied to a reference object - by default, a feather."

"Go on," said Winters, and now Alex had said it out loud, it was obvious.

"But... you can change the reference object," she said, sitting straighter, raising her wand. "I mean, obviously you haven't used a feather with this. So all I have to do is trick the Charm into taking a new reference object - the real weight - and the Charm will unravel!"

"Your homework," said Winters, staying Alex's hand as she went to try. "Right!" called Winters suddenly, standing up and clapping once for the class' attention. "You each have an object. Your homework is to despell it before next class."

The bell rang, and the class packed up quickly - the day was over, and they had two hours of freedom until dinner.

"Walk with me, Alex?" said Daphne, ambushing her as she walked through the door. She'd changed her hair, Alex noticed, growing it out long and straight.

"Sure," Alex said, her mind rushing to Draco's mysterious mission. Daphne held out her arm; Alex took it.

"You know, we haven't spoken since Christmas," said Daphne, strolling slowly down the corridor. They attracted a few curious looks - it wasn't every day you saw Alexandra Potter and Daphne Greengrass arm in arm - and Alex enjoyed them. _Let them look and wonder_, she thought.

"Well, I've been very busy," said Alex. In truth, she didn't really know where she stood with Daphne. It was easier to just ignore it.

"Busy ignoring Granger," said Daphne, turning them down a quieter corridor. Alex had no idea where they were going. "Have you seen the way she practically runs away from you? It's pathetic."

"Mmm," Alex agreed, not wanting to commit to anything more than vague sounds. While it was good, of course, that Hermione was back at school, Alex wanted nothing to do with her. _Best for everyone if we stay away from each other_, she thought.

"And, of course, you've been busy hatching schemes," said Daphne, her voice casual. Alex almost froze on the spot, but recovered in time. _She knows nothing_, she thought. _She's just fishing._

"Schemes?" she said, "I don't quite know what you-"

"I have your invisibility cloak," Daphne said, her voice suddenly cold, and this time Alex _did _freeze, their arms falling apart. She noticed, belatedly, that they were completely alone, standing in a long, dark corridor filled with dust.

"_What?_" she said, dread flooding through her veins. _My dad's cloak!_

"I don't know what you were after," said Daphne, leaning in close, "but Draco's noisier than a Hippogriff on celo. And now I have your cloak."

_I don't believe it_! Alex thought, her thoughts racing, _he lost it! _A hundred different lies popped into Alex's head. "Draco took my cloak?" she said, trying to sound shocked. "I can't believe he would-"

"Cut the crap, Potter," said Daphne, smirking. She had the advantage and she knew it. She had the cloak. "You wanted to do something to me, and you sent Draco to do it. I know the cloak's yours - Draco told me everything. _Begged _me to give it back."

Alex paused. It couldn't hurt to ask. "Well?" she said, "will you? Give it back?"

Daphne snorted, and started walking again. Alex hurried after her, deeper into the unknown corridor, further from the populated areas of the castle. _Where are we? _There were no portraits here, but suits of armor stood in silent vigil in alcoves along both walls.

"I could tell a teacher," Alex said, but she knew it was an empty threat the moment it was out of her mouth. Invisibility Cloaks were banned at Hogwarts.

"Here's what you're going to do," said Daphne. "You're going to write to Mr Malfoy, asking him to invite me to next year's ball. On top of that, you're going to give me one thousand galleons - I know you have it. If you do that, maybe I'll consider giving you _my _cloak."

Alex exhaled heavily, trying to hold her temper. She wasn't going to rise to Daphne's bait. The deal was unacceptable - it was almost half her money. She went a different route.

"Why're you doing this?" she said, "I thought we were over all this stuff."

"Of _course_ you did," said Daphne, tossing her hair with a laugh in her voice. "You're a jumped up mudblood. You think because I was nice at Christmas we're suddenly friends? It was _Christmas_, you stupid slut, and all the teachers were breathing down our necks. I'm not an idiot - unlike you."

Alex clenched her teeth_. All right, if that's the way she wants to play... _Alex grabbed Daphne's arm, pulling them to a stop.

"What're you-"

"Your turn to listen," said Alex, digging her nails into Daphne's skin. "Here's what _you're_ going to do. You're going to give me my cloak back, right now, and you're not going to tell anyone about it. And if you don't," - Alex's mind flashed back to her plan, so eagerly discarded at Christmas - "I'll _destroy _you. There won't be any place you can hide."

For a moment, Alex thought Daphne would give in. The blonde girl met her gaze, clearly surprised, but only for a moment. She snatched her arm out of Alex's grip with a sniff.

"Let's make than two thousand galleons, shall we?" she said.

"I'm warning you, Daphne," said Alex, willing Daphne to believe her. "You'll regret this."

"Bring it!" Daphne said, and she turned away. Alex let her go.

The plan was on.

* * *

Two hours later Alex was waiting outside the Great Hall. Everyone else was inside, chatting loudly as they ate dinner - everyone except Draco.

_Where is he?_ Alex thought, pacing near the bottom of the staircase. _He should be here by now_._ If the plan fails because he's late for dinner -_

"Draco!" she called, spotting him as he came out of a side door. She rushed over to him, grabbed his arm, and pulled him back through the door. The corridor beyond was empty. "Finally! Where've you been?"

"I was-"

"Never mind that," said Alex, shutting the door. "We don't have much time." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a thin vial. The potion within was almost identical to water - only a slight pink tinge gave away its true nature. "Here," she said, passing him the vial, "you need to put this into Daphne's drink - _without _being seen, obviously."

Looking rather dazed, Draco held the vial up to the light.

"What is it?" he said, and Alex noticed he looked paler than normal. His hair was a mess. _No time for that now_.

"We don't have time to talk about it," she said, "just trust me, okay?"

"I don't know about this..." said Draco, and Alex wanted to slap sense into him. She controlled herself.

"Well, since _you_ lost my cloak, I think you owe me," she said, "this is the only way to clear up _your_mess."

Draco looked away. "Listen, I'm really sorry, but -"

"If you're really sorry, then you'll do this for me," said Alex. _Why won't he just do it! Every moment we speak, Daphne's finishing dinner!_

"Well, all right," said Draco, sighing. "It's not anything really dangerous, is it? What if someone else drinks some?"

"It's a fucking _pleasure _potion, Draco," said Alex, losing her patience. "No one's gonna get hurt. Just do it, okay?"

Alex didn't wait for his answer before leaving. She entered the Hall and went straight to the Hufflepuff table, finding Lily, who was already half way through her squash soup. She sat next to her and tore a hunk of bread from the loaf.

"Where've you been?" said Lily, glancing at her.

"Library," lied Alex, her eyes fixed to the Slytherin table. Daphne was there, right at the end with Pansy and Tracey. She watched as Draco came in and sat a few seats down - right next to the jug of water.

"Figuring out your Charms homework?" said Lily.

"What?" said Alex. She'd completely forgotten about Charms. "Oh, yeah."

"Great! You can help me tonight, then!"

Alex turned to Lily, about to wiggle out of it, but decided against it. She couldn't do anything to Daphne until they were asleep. It'd be a good way to kill the time. "Sure," she said, turning back to watch Daphne.

Dinner seemed to last forever. Alex barely touched her food, so intent was she upon the Slytherin table.

"You coming, Alex?" said Lily, standing to leave with Megan.

Draco was still eating.

"Meet you in the Winter room at half seven?" she said. _Surely Draco will be finished by then._

"All right," said Lily, leaving Alex alone.

At last, Draco stood up. Alex practically leapt after him, catching up to him in the Entrance Hall. The place was still busy with the dinner traffic; Alex linked arms with Draco from behind, surprising him.

"Did you do it?" she whispered, leaning in to him. Draco nodded.

"Thank you!" said Alex, kissing him on the cheek with a fierce grin. _That was the hard part. Now I just have to fall asleep._

"So I'm forgiven now?" said Draco.

"Almost," said Alex, a bounce in her step as they made their way across a moving staircase. "There's just one more thing I need."

"Tell me."

"The Slytherin password."

Draco raised both eyebrows, but didn't stop walking.

"You're planning to break into our dorm?" he said, clearly disbelieving.

"Not exactly," said Alex, "but I do need the password."

Draco barely hesitated. "Mongolian Moonthistle," he said, barely loud enough to be heard.

"That... that's the answer to our Potions homework!" said Alex.

Draco smirked. "A coincidence, I'm sure," he said, but the twinkle in his eye said it was anything but.

They parted with a kiss by the portrait of Edmund the Eagle-Mad.

"Good luck, whatever you're doing," said Draco.

Alex returned to Hufflepuff and spent the evening with Lily, working on their Charms homework. It didn't take long for Alex to unravel the Charm on the weight, now she knew the strategy, but it took a lot longer to help Lily undo her floating candle. It was funny: Alex thought she understood the spell perfectly, but, when it came to explaining it, she found it very difficult to put into words. She ended up having to double check parts of the theory several times, after talking herself into a corner. By the end of the evening, Alex's Undoing was much more powerful.

"I did it!" said Lily, brandishing her candle.

"Let's try again," said Alex, and she recast the Levitation Charm. The candle floated up to hover in front of Lily's face.

"_Finite Incantatum!_" said Lily, reeling her wand. The candle fell to the floor with a muted thump.

"Great!" said Alex, picking up the candle. Her Charm wasn't perfect, but it was good enough. A cuckoo clock hooted nine - the first years' bedtime.

Butterflies bubbled in Alex's stomach as she made her way to the dorms. _What if it doesn't work? What if I just sleep all the way through the night? What if Snape changes the password tonight?_ _What if Daphne wakes up before I can frighten her? _As Alex climbed into bed, clutching her wand, she suddenly began to doubt the plan. There were so many possible ways for it to fail.

The lights went off.

_If it fails, it fails. But I might as well try_.

Alex closed her eyes, a faint smile on her lips. Daphne was in for an interesting night.

* * *

It was always the same: the Great Hall, abandoned, set for breakfast. The summer sun streamed through the stained windows, and a glass of juice was half way to Alex's mouth. She paused, and became aware.

She suppressed the surge of excitement that ran through her. She was more experienced with Somniamancy now, but too much could still wake her. She had to stay in control.

"_Recludo_," she said, tapping herself on the forehead with her wand, opening herself up to the shared dream world of Hogwarts' inhabitants. She'd long since moved past the need to see herself to cast the spell. _Let's go_.

She left the Great Hall and headed for the Slytherin dorms, passing across the central courtyard before going down into the old dungeons. Everywhere was still and silent, not a soul in sight. As far as Alex knew, no one else at Hogwarts practiced Somniamancy. And even if they did, running into each other was unlikely.

Though dry, the dungeons were dark and cold. None of the torches were lit, and Alex struggled to find her way. But eventually she found it, just as Draco had described: halfway between two cellar doors, the shadow of a snake engraved on the wall from ceiling to floor.

"Mongolian Moonthistle," she said. Her voice was muffled, like speaking into a pillow, but it did the job: with a grinding of stone, the wall split along the snake, forming a smooth archway. Alex entered without hesitation.

The arch opened up into a single large room, bigger even than Hufflepuff's Big Room. Green light filtered in from a huge window, dominating one wall. The lake lay on the other side, and Alex stared at it in surprise. _I didn't think I'd walked so far down_. The window was the only source of light - all the torches were extinguished - but it was enough for Alex to make out the rest of the room.

It was quite luxurious, all smooth dark stone and black leather couches, but it didn't feel very homely. Alex prefered Hufflepuff. _At least we have natural light_, she thought. The window to the lake was cool, but she'd get tired of not seeing the sun. She was about to check out the other rooms when she stopped herself. _Enough tourism_. She was here for a reason.

She headed for the stairs on the far side of the room, and went up. It didn't take long for her to find Daphne's dorm. She entered with a deep breath, hardly believing what she was doing. _Last chance to back out_.

She closed the door behind her.

The layout was like Hufflepuff: five four-poster beds, these ones decked out in green and silver. Daphne's was the third Alex checked. She lay on her side, her white blonde hair loose. The covers were pulled all the way up to her chin and a faint smile was on her face. _Good. Looks like the potion's working. _A familiar mote of glowing white light floated over Daphne's forehead.

"_Alohamora,_" said Alex. The glowing light grew into a disc, just as it had with Roland. "Here we go," she whispered, and, with her eyes closed, Alex pushed her face into the light.

She opened her eyes in a garden. Long and thin, with tall hedges on both sides, it sat behind a line of terraced houses, built in the Victorian style. The grass became a patio as it approached the house; a family of four sat there at a garden table, enjoying what looked like afternoon tea. Birds twittered in the trees and bees buzzed around the flowerbeds. It was quite idyllic.

Alex walked towards them, instantly recognising Daphne. None of them seemed to realise she was there. Not Daphne, nor the taller girl next to her - her sister, Alex guessed, judging by their similar hair. Their parents were similarly oblivious.

"Milk, Daphne?" asked Mrs Greengrass. She was, like her daughters, tall and thin, but there was a frailty to her that Daphne lacked. The bones of her face were too prominent, and her skin was unnaturally pale. Her eyes, however, were bright and clear.

"Thank you, mother," said Daphne, like the prim and proper Pureblood she was, sitting with her back straight and her head high. Mrs Greengrass poured the milk herself - no House Elf, nor even a wand - and passed Daphne the china cup.

It was undecorated, Alex noticed. A plain, unassuming white. The table too, now that she looked, was simply made. A far cry from the contents of _Manor_, it could've come from a Muggle store.

"Tell me, Daphne," said Mr Greengrass, a thin man with even thinner brown hair, "how is Lord Talbot?"

"Filthy rich!" said the sister cheerfully, and Mrs Greengrass gasped.

"Astoria! It's not polite to say such things - not even in private," she said, expression disapproving. Suddenly, she smiled. "But you're not wrong. The Talbots are rather handsomely well off, aren't they?"

"That's the girl," said Mr Greengrass, smiling at Daphne with something like pride. "You'll go far, mark my words."

Alex looked on incredulously. _This is Daphne's perfect dream?_ _It's as dull as the Dursleys!_

"It's not like we're getting married," said Daphne, but it was obvious she was happy. "But Lord Talbot _did _tell me I was a fine companion for Henry."

"Well!" said Mr Greengrass, leaning back in his seat, "there you have it!"

"When can I have a boyfriend?" said Astoria with a whine.

"Not 'til you're at Hogwarts, dear," said Mrs Greengrass, before turning back to Daphne. "Now, did you say you've been invited to the Malfoy ball next year?"

_That's enough_, Alex thought. _Time to liven this up_. The Greengrasses were still completely oblivious to her presence. She raised her wand.

"_Domino, demuto, incubo_," she chanted, swinging her wand back and forth like a pendulum. The sun slipped behind a cloud, and Daphne shivered.

"No idea how we're going to afford a dress if you are," said Mr Greengrass, "you might have to politely decline."

"Father!" said Daphne, her eyes going wide. "Decline the Malfoys? That's..."

"I don't see any other way, Daphne. Better to decline than to go and be embarrassed."

"Now, dear, I'm sure we could find enough for just one-"

_This isn't enough_. "_Domino, demuto, incubo_," repeated Alex.

"We could not," said Mr Greengrass, slapping the table hard. "We already owe the Malfoys four thousand galleons, the Swanns another two thousand, and the goblins five hundred. I'll not bankrupt myself for a _dress_!"

"Father, we're already bankrupt," said Daphne, no longer smiling. "Maybe if you hadn't spent all the money -"

"And let your mother die, is that it?" said Mr Greengrass, standing up.

"That's not what I meant!" said Daphne, also standing.

"Why are we fighting?" said Astoria, looking like she was about to cry, and Mrs Greengrass stood up too.

"If you don't want to be part of this House, Daphne, maybe you should run away again."

Everyone went silent, and turned to Mrs Greengrass in shock. Alex's eyes widened. _Daphne ran away from home? _Alex turned to her. She was on the verge of tears. After a moment of hesitation, she ran towards the house.

"Daphne!" called her mother, moving to go after her. "I didn't-"

"Let her be," said Mr Greengrass, and they sat back down. Alex left them there, following Daphne into the house.

She entered through the kitchen - a tiny thing, it looked almost Muggle. _Is this a Muggle house?_ It had a cold box, not a fridge, but the stove was clearly connected to gas. Alex went from the kitchen into the sitting room. Like the kitchen it was rather small. _Where now?_ The sound of feet running up carpeted stairs gave Daphne away. Alex followed, and reached the top of the stairs just as a door slammed shut. _Gotcha_.

She entered the bedroom.

Like the rest of the house it was small and simply decorated. The walls were white, the bed single. Daphne lay on it, face down, crying into a teddy bear. Alex shut the door loudly, and Daphne jumped up.

"What're _you _doing here?" she said, quickly wiping her eyes dry.

"I told you, Daphne," said Alex, raising her wand. "I told you not to mess with me."

Daphne screwed up her eyes and rubbed her forehead.

"I don't-" she began, before shaking her head. "I don't understand. Why are you here?"

"I can get you anywhere," said Alex. Not true, but Daphne couldn't know. "Even your dreams."

Daphne's eyes snapped open, and Alex knew she'd realised she was dreaming.

"Bingo!" she said, moving to sit on Daphne's desk chair. It creaked as she leaned back. "I knew you'd get there eventually."

"If this is a dream," said Daphne, "then I'm just dreaming you too."

"Nope!" said Alex, grinning. It was an addictive thing: the feeling of control, of having Daphne completely within her power. "Here, let me show you. _Diffindo!_"

The invisible scissor Charm slashed Daphne across her cheek, opening an inch long cut.

"Ow!" said Daphne, her hand slapping up to her cheek, pushing against the cut, which was bleeding quite impressively. "That... hurt!"

"You don't know the half of it," said Alex, keeping her wand trained on Daphne. Not that she knew any good jinxes. _Something I'll have to look up later_. The scissor charm was designed for paper, not people, and was meant to be applied with direct contact. It was amazing that Alex could get as much out of it as she had. Still, it would be enough. "You see, dear Daphne, anything I do to you here happens in real life too. When you wake up, you'll have that cut on your cheek."

Daphne's eyes shifted to look at Alex's wandpoint. Suddenly she looked nervous.

"You're lying," she said, her voice wavering, but she took a step back nonetheless. Her legs bumped up against the bed. "There's no such magic."

"Perhaps if you spent more time on study and less on making _my life_ _miserable_ you'd know there was," said Alex, and she raised the wand again. Daphne tried to dodge, but she just fell onto the bed. "_Diffindo!_" This one caught Daphne in the arm, right by the elbow, and Daphne gasped in pain.

"Why are you doing this?" said Daphne, her eyes swimming, her voice thick.

Anger like nothing she'd ever known grew in Alex. "Why?" she hissed, "you even have to ask? You've been on my case _since day one_. You spread rumours about me for no reason! You _poisoned_ me in front of the school! You pretended to be my friend, then you stole my father's cloak and _blackmailed _me!" She took a deep, shuddering breath, and realised that she too was crying. "You'll never hurt me again." Her wand began to move.

"Stop it!" Daphne said, shying away, "please! Just stop!"

"Give me my cloak back," said Alex, not lowering her wand, "first thing tomorrow. Promise me you'll never come near me again."

"I promise!" said Daphne.

"If you break your promise, you know I can get you," Alex said, and a memory stirred in her mind.

_I'm going to get you,_ Dudley said. _Tomorrow at school._

Alex covered her mouth in shock. _No_, she thought. _I'm not like him. _But when she looked down at Daphne, lying back on her bed in fear, Alex's wand wavered.

The moment of hesitation was all Daphne needed. She leapt off the bed and smashed into Alex at the waist, tackling her. Alex cried out, trying to bring her wand to bear, but it flew out of her hand as she landed on the hard wooden floor with a thud.

Winded, Alex looked around for her wand, but Daphne was already scrambling after it.

"No!" said Alex, and she grabbed onto the first part of Daphne she could reach - her hair. Daphne screamed as Alex tugged hard, and turned back to Alex to slap her across the face. Bright hot stinging heat spread across Alex's cheek but she didn't let go; she pulled again on Daphne's hair, dragging her back down to the floor, and tried to stand herself, dodging Daphne's flailing arms.

With a dive she reclaimed her wand.

"_Domino, demuto, incubo!_" she shouted, just in time - Daphne had got back up. Alex suddenly wondered why she hadn't woken up yet - a fight like that, combined with her aware state, should've been enough to wake Daphne up.

"Give me the wand," Daphne said, standing over Alex, her foot poised to kick. _I definitely need to learn more hexes_.

"Fuck off," said Alex, and Daphne raised her foot.

_CRASH!_

With the sound of splintering wood, the head of an axe smashed through Daphne's door. Daphne spun to face it, just as it came down again - _CRASH!_

"_DAPHNE!_" shouted Mr Greengrass from the other side, and the axe came down a third time, completely destroying the door. The nightmare stepped through into the bedroom, surveying the two of them with red eyes.

"Alex..." said Daphne, right as Mr Greengrass raised the axe.

"_Finite!_" shouted Alex, pointing the wand at Mr Greengrass.

Nothing happened. He swung the axe; Daphne dived. The axe missed her neck by less than an inch.

"ALEX!" she shouted. Mr Greengrass stepped to stand over her, and raised the axe. Alex jumped up, her arm in third.

"_FINITE INCANTATUM!_" she shouted, putting everything into the spell, lacing it with dark magic. Mr Greengrass froze in place, and Alex breathed a sigh of relief.

And then he turned to face her, his red eyes meeting hers, and her scar exploded in pain. Alex screamed, falling to her knees, her hands clutching her head. It was like a nail had been rammed through her scar, right into her brain. Warm blood trickled down her face, and she looked up to face the nightmare.

Mr Greengrass melted away. In his place a tall man stood, bald, pale and skeletal, with slits for a nose and red eyes.

Alex froze, Daphne screamed. Slowly, Voldemort lifted his wand to point at Alex.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

Green light flashed.

Alex jumped out of bed before she was even fully awake, her head pounding. Blood was drying on her face, but it barely registered. _Daphne! She's still stuck there! _

For the smallest fraction of a moment, Alex hesitated. She would be in trouble for this, she knew. _Fuck that!_

Alex raced out of her dorm, wand in hand, and ran down the stairs. _Prefect? No - not enough time! _She ran all the way to Slytherin, her heart hammering in her chest, the night's cold air burning in her lungs.

"Mongolian Moonthistle!" she shouted as she approached the entrance, and the archway opened just as in her dream. She ran through the common room without a glance, right up the girls stairs, and into Daphne's dorm.

"_Lumos!_" she shouted, running over to Daphne's bed. She tore the curtains open, and gasped. Blood was everywhere, soaked through the sheets, and Daphne was deadly pale. Alex wanted to throw up. "HELP!" she screamed, "somebody help!"

The other girls in the dorm stirred.

"What's going on?" said Pansy, crawling out of her bed. Her eyes widened when she saw Alex and Daphne. "Oh my god!"

"Help me!" Alex begged through her tears, but Pansy just continued to stare.

The door burst open and Professor Snape strode into the room, dressed in blue pyjamas. He looked around the room once, taking everything in, and turned immediately to Daphne's bed.

"Please, sir, help her!" said Alex, and Snape raised his wand, his expression inscrutable.

Red light flashed, and everything went black.

* * *

Alex woke in her own bed. She sat up, disoriented, to find the dorm empty. _What's going on? _Her thoughts went immediately to Daphne, her mind filling with the image of blood soaked sheets. She could still smell it - the metallic tang that couldn't be ignored.

Her stomach trembled and Alex ran to the bathroom. The moment she entered the stall she hurled, her empty stomach wrenching as it tried to turn Alex inside out.

_Oh god. It went so wrong. I never meant for... that. For Daphne to -_

Alex shook her head, refusing to think like that. _She'll be fine. She has to be. Snape was there - he'll have helped her_. She cleaned herself up and headed over to the mirror. Whoever had taken her back to Hufflepuff had fixed her up: though pale, her face was clean, her head clear. The pain in her scar was just a memory.

_What was that all about, anyway?_ Her scar had never been anything other than a mark on her skin - until last night. Until _he_ had come. Alex's stomach flipped again, this time in fear. _What's going to happen to me? Where's everyone else?_

It wasn't until she dressed that she realised her wand was missing. She searched for it everywhere, but it was nowhere to be found. She checked her watch: almost eight o'clock. Breakfast would be almost over.

The Great Hall - already full - burst into whispers as she entered. Everyone was looking at her, and not in a good way. She'd never been popular with the Slytherins, but the looks of venom they sent her now made her want to run away. And it wasn't just her own year - the seventh years were whispering too, staring at her with calculating eyes.

Alex looked around - Draco wasn't there. Working on automatic, she walked over to the Hufflepuff table and went to take the first seat - next to Hannah.

"That seat's taken," she said, placing an arm across it so Alex couldn't sit.

"Piss off, Potter!" shouted a voice down the table - a boy; Alex didn't recognise his voice. She glanced towards Peter, the prefect, but the older boy's face was stony.

"Move along, Potter," he said, waving her down the table.

Alex didn't protest. She wandered down the table until she found Lily. She was silent as Alex sat, watching her with wide eyes. Her stomach still roiling, Alex didn't eat anything. She wasn't even sure why she'd come to breakfast. At last, Lily spoke.

"Is it true?" she whispered, pouring Alex some orange juice. Alex didn't touch it.

"Is-" Alex croaked, and she cleared her throat. "Is what true?"

"People are saying... they're saying you _killed _Daphne," said Lily, glancing sideways at those around them.

What hope Alex held onto seemed to plummet from her stomach to her bladder. It was good she was sitting down, because had she been standing she surely would have fallen.

"Daphne's dead?" Alex said, her voice barely a whimper, but Lily heard.

"Well, the teachers aren't saying anything," said Lily, "but Susan heard it from Sophie who heard it from Pansy."

Alex went straight from breakfast to Potions, walking in a daze. Some part of her remembered they had a test today, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Daphne was dead. She arrived at Potions to see her classmates gathered around the heavy oak door, where a piece of parchment had been stuck up.

_CLASS CANCELLED. RETURN TO YOUR COMMON ROOMS AND PREPARE FOR THE TEST._

"There she is!" someone said, and they turned to face her as one. Alex noticed Sophie Roper at the back of the crowd, her eyes red and puffy. She looked almost as bad as Alex did. Astrid was there too, watching Alex with narrow eyes. _Probably wondering if I'll get her in trouble too_.

"Sophie -" Alex began.

"Don't you _dare _talk to her!" said Mandy, stepping between them. She was a big girl in every sense of the word, with a round face and frizzy blonde hair. "Not after you did!"

"I-"

"You've not got long, Potter," Mandy said, glancing at the crowd behind her for confidence. "You'll be expelled for this."

Alex wanted to throw up again - Mandy was right. They knew she did it. She should've been expelled already - what were they waiting for? She wasn't going to waste the time she had.

"Sophie?" she repeated, trying to look past Mandy, "can we talk?" She had no idea what she wanted to say to her. She just felt it was important to say something - anything. To say sorry.

Sophie stepped forward, and Mandy stepped out of the way. They stared at each other for just a moment. "You should go," said Sophie, looking down at her shoes.

Tears welled up in Alex's eyes and she turned to hide them. "Okay," she said, and wiped her face dry again. _I can't even apologise, now_. She left Potions but didn't return to Hufflepuff, as the sign instructed. She went to the library instead - to the deepest, darkest corner of it, where no one could find her - and sat on the floor, her back against a bookcase.

She was going to be expelled. She was certain of it. She was going to be expelled and thrown out of her home, forced to return to the Dursleys. Forced to live as a Muggle, her wand broken. Worst of all, Alex knew she couldn't argue against it. It was all true: _she _had killed Daphne. It was all her fault. There wasn't anything to hide behind, this time. No excuses, no "they started it", no "it was her own fault". It was all on her.

Alex didn't leave the library until lunch, heading towards the Great Hall out of habit. She wasn't hungry, but for some reason she had been left to wander free. _When will they expel me? _she wondered, and then she saw him - _Draco_! He was crossing the small courtyard, alone. It looked like he was coming from the East Wing, not Slytherin. _Strange_.

"Draco!" she shouted, making him jump - the courtyard was empty. Everyone was probably already at lunch. Draco turned to face her, and Alex knew something was wrong. His eyes were red, his hair messy, and his robed were rumpled.

"Alexandra," he said, and when Alex went to hug him he stepped back. Alex's heart sunk. _Not him too_. She'd thought - hoped - that of all of Hogwarts, maybe Draco wouldn't judge her. Would tell her everything would be okay.

"Draco, what's wrong?" said Alex.

"What's wrong?" said Draco, his voice shrill. "I've just been questioned - by the Aurors! Me! All because of you! You told me it was safe!"

"I thought it was," said Alex, some small fire of defiance still burning deep down. There was no way she was going to let him blame her for _everything_. He'd been a part of it too.

"Well, it wasn't!" said Draco, throwing his arms up, and he began to pace. "You told me it was safe, and I believed you. I helped you to - to do _that _to Daphne." He stopped pacing, and turned to face her. "You tricked me," he said, quietly, "you used me."

"No, Draco, it's not like that," pleaded Alex, reaching for his hand.

"Get your filthy hands off me!" Draco shrieked, slapping her hand away. "Father says I should be checked for love potions," he said, drawing himself up. "It's the only explanation for why I would ever have been with you."

For the fourth time in one day, Alex began to cry. "Draco, what're you saying?" she said, "you don't mean this..."

"I do," said Draco. "We're done. Don't come near me again."

He walked off. Alex watched him go, stunned. Everything was falling to pieces around her. Her whole life was crumbling down.

It was only fair. She had taken Daphne's life. Now she would pay with hers. She suddenly knew she couldn't face the Great Hall again. She wandered over to one of the benches and sat, staring at the fountain at the centre of the courtyard.

_I wish... I wish Mum and Dad were here._

It had been a long time since Alex had wished for her parents - she'd given up such dreams a long time ago. They weren't coming back. She had to look after herself now. She had no family, and in that moment she felt it keenly. There was no one who would accept her come what may. There was no one should could turn to.

A door slammed, and Professor Sprout walked into the courtyard. She moved briskly over to Alex's bench, her face strangely solemn.

"Professor Dumbledore will see you now," she said.

She led Alex through the school like a prisoner to be executed. Alex didn't resist, but nor did she go eagerly, each step heavy. The walk to Professor Dumbledore's office was all too short.

"Up you go," said Sprout, giving the password, and the gargoyle took her up.

She raised her hand to knock on the door, but it swung open before she could. The office was unchanged since their dinners. A large fire filled the room with warm light, and Dumbledore sat tall, enthroned behind his mighty desk. Her wand was resting before him, and a roll of parchment. He was not smiling, and there was no twinkle in his eye.

Alex looked down the moment she met his eyes. She couldn't stand to be seen by him thus. Shame filled her - she had let him down. She shuffled over to the seat opposite Dumbledore, and waited.

Silence stretched out, and finally she looked up.

Dumbledore's face was grim. And yet, he didn't look _angry_. It was worse. He looked upon her with sadness. With pity. At last he spoke.

"Daphne Greengrass is in St. Mungo's spell damage ward. It is not yet certain if she will live. Tell me why you have done this thing."

Alex looked to her shoes, her throat dry. How could she explain it?

"I don't know where to start," she mumbled, still looking at her shoes.

"Then start at the beginning," he said, his voice lacking its characteristic warmth. "And look at me when you do so."

With a great force of will, Alex looked up and met his piercing blue eyes. It felt like her entire soul was bare to him. And then she told him. She told him of Daphne's prank, of her plans for revenge, of the Restricted section. She told him about practicing Somniamancy, of recruiting Draco into her plan. Throughout it all he sat unmoving, his hands folded on top of the desk, a perfect audience.

"And then she came to me after Charms, and said she had my cloak," Alex continued, a great weight seeming to lift from her as she told the story. "So I-"

"Wait," said Dumbledore, moving for the first time. If Alex didn't know better, she'd think he looked alarmed. "Miss Greengrass is in possession of your father's cloak?"

"Yes," said Alex, wondering why _this_, of everything she had said, had made him interrupt. He flicked his wrist and a wand appeared in his hand. For a brief, terrible moment, Alex shied back, thinking he was to use it on her, but it merely produced a flash of silver light, rushing into one of the walls quicker than she could follow.

"Very well," said Dumbledore, sitting back. "Continue."

After that the story didn't take long. She recounted her trip into the dream world, her invasion of Daphne's dreams, of how she had confronted Daphne, before the nightmare took the form of Voldemort.

"You say your scar hurt?" said Dumbledore, his wand appearing once more. He stood, walked around the desk, and moved his wand around her face. "Did it still hurt when you awoke?"

"Yes," said Alex, wondering what it meant, "and it was bleeding."

"Indeed?" he said, and Alex thought she heard something of the man she knew there. "I presume you woke up after Voldemort cursed you?"

"Yes," said Alex, "the curse, I'd never heard of it before..."

"You wouldn't have," said Dumbledore, sitting back down. "Or at least, I should hope not. It appears I have been remiss... I apologise."

Alex gaped. _He_ was apologising to _her_?

"Yes, Alex," he said, nodding at her expression. "I am ultimately responsible for all that occurs within this castle. I apologise. I should have reined you in sooner."

Alex frowned. "What do you mean, sir?" she said, confused. This conversation was not what she expected.

"Do not think me blind, Alex," said Dumbledore, "I know much of your activities over the past months. I have watched with dismay the way you have treated Miss Granger, and Miss Greengrass. You _must _understand the seriousness of your actions."

"I do, sir," said Alex.

Dumbledore sighed. "I'm afraid you do not," he said, and he pulled a large binder from a drawer. "This folder contains every assignment you have written, every test you have taken, every report on your progress by your teachers." He leafed through it casually. "It is quite the read. Such performance has few equals in the history of this school."

Alex nodded, wondering where he was going.

"You are intelligent, Alex, and talented. And yet you lack that most vital of qualities: sound moral judgement." He paused. "In that matter you are not so different from your peers. However, to combine it with such talent... look at me, Alex."

Alex looked up again, meeting his eyes.

"I shall _not _permit the rise of another Voldemort," he said, and there was a harshness to his voice that was completely unfamiliar. Alex swallowed.

"I'm not like him," she said, quietly. She wasn't so sure of it herself. When had Voldemort killed _his _first victim?

"No, you are not," said Dumbledore, and he leaned back, his voice back to normal. "And for that I am most thankful. But you must be careful, Alex, very careful. It is a delicate line you walk. That _we _walk." He looked back down to the roll of parchment on his desk. "On this occasion, you have crossed that line severely. Punishment is in order."

Alex swallowed again, and her stomach wobbled dangerously. _Here it comes_.

"This," said Dumbledore, taking up the scroll, "is the order, signed by the Board of Governors, for your expulsion from Hogwarts."

Alex blinked rapidly, trying to at least keep her dignity, when Dumbledore clicked his fingers. A ball of flame consumed the scroll in less than a second.

"What...?"

"Having heard your testimony, I have deemed your expulsion premature," said Dumbledore, and, though he wasn't smiling, some measure of warmth returned to his voice. "You are not beyond redemption, Alex, not yet. In seeking to correct your mistake last night, knowing that you would face punishment, you have demonstrated your remorse. And, while you have clearly displayed appalling judgement, the involvement of Voldemort cannot be ignored."

Alex couldn't help it - she smiled. _I'm not going to be expelled! _Mortified, she tried to hide it, but she couldn't stop the wave of relief that washed through her. It was like she could suddenly breathe again. "Thank you, sir," she said, but Dumbledore held up his finger.

"_However,_" he said, pulling a parchment from his desk drawer. "A crime of this magnitude cannot go unpunished. I am suspending you from Hogwarts, so that you may reflect on your wrongdoings and - hopefully - learn from them."

The feeling of relief faded. She would have to go back to the Dursleys. And then she would have to return to school in shame. _Better than expulsion_,_ though_.

"How long will I be suspended for, sir?" she asked. A week was standard.

"Indefinitely," said Dumbledore, scribbling on the parchment without looking up.

Alex blinked. That was as good as expulsion! "But, sir, I thought-"

"Unfortunately, Alex, this is out of my hands," he said, and he stood up, finished with the parchment. He walked over to the fireplace. He looked back at her not unkindly. "You are going to have to learn the hard way, I'm afraid: actions have consequences."

He tossed a handful of powder into the fire and it turned green. A black man stepped through, wearing scarlet robes. While not as tall as the Headmaster, he was still big, and broad shouldered. Everything about him screamed strength and authority, from the confidence of his step to the way he shook hands.

"Dumbledore," the man said, his voice a deep baritone.

"Auror Shacklebolt," said Dumbledore, and Alex stiffened in her seat. _What's going on? _"Welcome to Hogwarts. I trust that you will handle this with all due delicacy."

Shacklebolt nodded, and turned to Alex.

"Alexandra Alice Potter," he said, stepping forward. "By the authority of the Ministry of Magic, I am placing you under arrest."


End file.
